


Children of the Night - Part IV: And in the End

by Nos4a2no9



Series: Children of the Night [5]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-29
Updated: 2006-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 16:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nos4a2no9/pseuds/Nos4a2no9





	1. Coming Home

“Bruce needs medical attention.”

Alfred had been waiting for them in the cave, and as Selina brought the Batmobile to a stop, the butler moved forward, already opening the passenger door to examine Bruce’s injuries. Selina admired his stoicism: Alfred showed not a flicker of surprise at the sight of Lucy asleep in Bruce’s arms.

She cut the engine and climbed stiffly out of the driver’s seat, going around to the other side of the car to take Lucy from Bruce as Alfred began to help his employer from the car. Bruce shrugged off Alfred’s assistance, wavering only slightly as he cradled his injured arm and stepped from the car.

“I trust your meeting went well,” Alfred muttered sharply, his eyes narrowed in disapproval.

Selina felt the butler‘s censure and shifted uneasily, suddenly aware at the disheveled appearance of her dirt-encrusted Catsuit and the grime streaking the area of her face below her mask. “There was an accident,” she told Alfred, Lucy’s head on her shoulder a strange, comforting weight.

“Apparently. Are you and the…and the child quite well?”

Selina nodded and Alfred returned his attention to Bruce’s bruised and battered face. “This is quite unacceptable,” Alfred told him. Selina left the two men to wage their battle in private.

She carried the little girl upstairs, trying to decide what to do next. Clean the kid up? Feed her something? Let her sleep? Unlike Bruce, Selina had never taken in a foundling. She had no idea what to do with a child this young. Selina finally decided on the most prudent course of action: she took Lucy into a spare bedroom off the main suite, threw back the covers and laid the little girl undisturbed among the soft cotton sheets.

She went into the bathroom and changed, cleaning as much of the past few days’ grime and dust off her skin as she could. The thought of a shower was exhausting: she knew she’d fall asleep under the warm spray of water. Entering the master bedroom Selina shot a heartfelt look towards the soft white sheets with their thousand thread count but conscience forced her to pick up the phone on the beside table.

*****************

Alfred set the bone in Bruce’s arm carefully, redoing the field splint Dick had fashioned. He had lost count of the number of times he’d done this for his charge. Every time he was required to do this, Alfred vowed it would be the last. At least this time Master Bruce hadn’t intentionally acquired this latest injury as an exercise in self-punishment.

“I take it that your evening was pleasant,” Alfred muttered, his eyes focused on what he was doing to Bruce’s arm. Bruce didn’t respond.

Alfred finished the splint and washed his hands. He began to bandage Bruce’s ribs. “If we are still keeping track of this sort of thing, you’ve broken two of your vertebro-sternal ribs and four of the vertebral ones, making a grand total of six major fractures. Most of them haven’t had time to heal after their last assault.”

Bruce grunted as Alfred tightened a bandage around his torso.

“I am growing weary of performing this task for you, Master Bruce.”

“It couldn’t be helped.”

Alfred sniffed, finished what he was doing. He straightened and snipped off the end of the bandaging, replacing everything on the surgical tray next to the medical bed. “Allow me to guess. The child followed you and Miss Kyle home?”

“We followed her, actually,” Bruce replied carefully, getting off the medical bed with a grunt. He pressed a hand to his aching side.

“And how long will the young lady be a guest at the Manor?” Alfred asked him. Bruce didn’t respond. He headed up to the manor proper. Alfred shook his head, beginning to pack the surgical equipment away.

*****************

“Bradley,” a gruff voice answered after a few short rings.

“It’s me,” Selina said, suddenly realizing what time it was. Slam had probably gone to bed only a few hours before.

“You okay?” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

“Yup,” she replied. “See the news?”

“That was you? On all six networks?”

“Only six?”

“Yeah, the WB wouldn’t pre-empt.”

“Bastards,” she muttered, smiling against the receiver. “Sorry I woke you. I just didn’t want you up all night worrying about me,” Selina teased. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Might even stop in and say hi.”

“You do that,” he said firmly, sounding more awake. “We miss you.”

“I’ve got to go,” she said into the phone. “My love to Holly.”

With a click, the line from stately Wayne Manor in Bristol to a dilapidated old storefront office in the East End went dead. She felt Bruce behind her, watching.

“Sorry,” she apologized, then realized she didn’t owe him an explanation. Still, she continued. “He worries.”

Bruce didn’t respond, hovering near the door. His arm was in a sling; Selina noted that Alfred hadn’t plastered the arm. She nearly winced as she imaged the pain he must be in. Bruce would have refused painkillers and Alfred would have re-set the bone anyway. “How’s that feel?” she asked, rising. Bruce said nothing. He was being quieter than usual, the shock of the evening wearing off but leaving a strange stillness about him.

“What happened with Jessica, Bruce?”

He brushed past her, lying down on top of the blankets.

“Turn out the light,” he said.

***********************

Alfred entered the next morning, faltering a little as he broke his cardinal rule and stole a glimpse of Master Bruce’s unorthodox sleeping arrangements. He’d been careful to avoid glancing at the bed in the morning before Master Bruce and Miss Selina knew he had entered the room; it gave everyone a chance to avoid embarrassment. Alfred had employed the technique quite successfully for many years when Bruce’s parents had still been alive and occupied the same room. Today was different.

Master Bruce lay on his back, his face still streaked with dirt, his hair matted and bloody, his splinted arm at an awkward angle across his chest. Miss Kyle, less dirty, her beautiful features composed in sleep, occupied the larger portion of the bed. She tended to be quite territorial about such matters.

“Good morning,” he greeted the sleeping vigilantes. They had been dozing too long. Leslie was expecting them at her clinic and Dr. Thompkins had a very busy schedule. “Rise and shine,” Alfred prompted, sweeping aside the curtains to let late-morning sunshine flood into the room.

“Alfred, you are a sadist,” Selina accused, coming awake with a yawn and a low moan as she stretched. “What time is it?”

“Eleven o’clock, Miss Kyle,” he said crisply.

“Did Lucy sleep well?” Bruce asked. Selina and Alfred glanced at him. They hadn’t known he was awake.

“The child is downstairs consuming an alarming amount of orange juice and toast,” Alfred informed his employer.

Bruce nodded. He seemed better this morning, more alert. Sadness still haunted his expression and she wondered again what had happened in his final encounter with Jessica. He sat up, his heavily-developed abdominal muscles screaming in protest against his broken ribs. Bruce went into the bathroom, Alfred trailing behind at an appropriate distance.

Selina lingered in the soft bed, listening to the sounds in the bathroom as Bruce showered and dressed, Alfred helping to pull the clothes on over his bruised body. She had almost lost him in the caves. When she and Tim had found his body in the rubble…she had thought for a moment that he was dead. Selina knew that, if she was to continue to care for him, to be his partner and his lover, she would always carry that fear. As he would for her. They were equals in that, at least. One of them would eventually lose the other through accident or circumstance. It was only a matter of time.

Bruce finally emerged from the bathroom. He’d bathed and without the layers of caked-on dirt covering his face, Selina finally saw how tired and defeated he looked. The strain and worry of their journey into the Court of Miracles had been hard on Bruce. Unlike Clark, she knew, he was a realist. Bruce couldn’t pretend that the children they had saved would really find happy endings. Batman would be facing down some of them on the streets of Gotham in a few years.

“Alfred said he found Lucy wandering the halls last night,” Bruce said over his shoulder, pausing at the door. “I thought you put her in the guest room.”

“I guess she got up,” Selina told him. “It’s a lonely house, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded in agreement, turning to leave the room without a second glance. Selina sighed, slipping out of bed and heading for the bathroom. She emerged a half-hour later, feeling much better now that she was clean and dressed in something not made out of form-fitting leather.

She had the feeling it was going to be a long, strange day.

*****************


	2. Park Row

The drive to Leslie’s clinic was a quiet one, Lucy placed securely between Bruce and Selina in the backseat of the Bentley, Alfred piloting the big car through late-morning traffic across the RKM Bridge into Gotham. Lucy was quiet. When she spoke at all, it was with a hesitant whisper. The child seemed tense and Selina really didn’t want to ask her what was wrong. She was tired of prophecies of doom.

Bruce hadn’t spoken since his few words to her in the bedroom that morning. He stared unseeing out the window. She worried for him, her mouth drawn in a tense line. Lucy kept hold of her hand. 

They finally reached Leslie Thompkin’s Park Row Clinic, stepping out onto the trash-lined streets of the East End from the expensive car. Selina was surprised by how little the neighborhood had changed in the four months she’d been living in Bristol. Life at Wayne Manor seemed to have taken place on another planet. Here, in her real home, a gang of young black youths eyed them from across the street, wondering how quickly they could boost the Bentley and get the car to a chop shop. A bag lady wheeled slowly by, pushing a shopping cart filled with all her worldly possessions. Limited hope and endless despair were so intertwined in the East End that they made Selina’s eyes and heart ache for this place, ache for Gotham. 

Lucy slipped her small, warm little paw into Selina’s hand, tugging her forward. The child’s limp was more pronounced today, the ever-present stuffed animal still in her arms. Watching the small girl pick her way across the East End street, Selina was reminded of the first time she’d met Holly. Holly had been ten or eleven, getting the shakedown from one of the East End vice cops. She’d turned four tricks in one hour and had made less than a yard (this was before Selina had explained the economics of prostitution to Holly) and Selina had charged in recklessly, stealing the money and helping Holly to escape from the GCPD flunky. Lucy had that same look Holly had worn all those years ago, that hopeful sadness so prevalent among the lost children of Gotham. 

Dr. Thompkins greeted them at the reception desk, disappearing quickly into an examining room with Bruce. Selina thought Lucy might be interested in the collection of toys, games and puzzles offered by the clinic’s child-friendly waiting room but she seemed content to sit with Selina on the molded plastic chairs, the stuffed animal (Selina wasn’t certain now that it even was an animal) in her lap. She hadn’t let go of Selina’s hand once.

Nearly an hour later, Bruce and Leslie exited the examining room, Bruce’s arm encased in hard plastic. Selina caught Leslie’s eyes and she knew immediately the doctor was as concerned for Bruce as Selina was. 

“Hi, Lucy,” Dr. Thompkins said, crouching down before the little girl. Lucy didn’t respond, her face open and curious, waiting.

Dr. Thompkins cocked her head to one side and stroked the fur of the bedraggled stuffed animal. “That’s a lovely elephant, Lucy. What’s his name?”

“Mr. Pickles,” the child replied, sliding her hand out of Selina’s grasp to touch Leslie’s face. The doctor didn’t move.

Bruce tensed, stepping forward a little. Leslie waved him off. After a moment, Lucy nodded and returned her hand to Selina’s.

“You’re going to help me,” Lucy said. “Like you helped all the other kids.”

“That’s right,” Leslie smiled encouragingly. “Come with me,” she requested. Lucy slid off the chair and followed her into the examining room. Leslie shut the door behind her.

Selina and Bruce settled back to wait, not looking at each other.

********************

Much later, Leslie reemerged, closing the door softly. She spoke quietly to Selina and Bruce, who stood.

“Join me on the roof,” she invited. “I need some fresh air.”

Selina, Bruce and Leslie climbed three flights of stairs onto the clinic’s roof, the early April breeze fresh and cool on their skin. It was sunny outside, the pale blue sky lacking both winter’s chill and the hazy summer heat which made seasonal rooftop meetings so uncomfortable in Gotham otherwise. Selina turned her face to the sun, awaiting Leslie’s verdict.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” the doctor asked them.

“There’s bad news?” Selina asked, her heart in her throat.

Leslie shook her head. “Anything I can’t quantify is always bad news.”. 

“How is she, physically?” Bruce asked.

Leslie sighed, folding her arms across her small chest, her white lab coat flapping in a sudden gust of wind. “There are obvious signs that she is the product of incest,” she said quietly. “Two ribs are missing from her lower left side. It’s affected the way her spinal cord has developed. I’m afraid the limp is permanent.”

Bruce nodded. Selina’s eyes widened but she said nothing.

Leslie continued with her diagnosis slowly, looking out across the East End neighborhood. “Lucy is small for her age. Malnourishment, I think, rather than something at the genetic level. But she is extremely bright and possesses more self-awareness and control than children twice as old.”

“You’ve confirmed her status as a metahuman?” Bruce asked bluntly. Leslie nodded, knowing why he’d asked: he’d wanted Selina to know.

“Telepathy, telekinesis, advanced intellect…I’ve run every test I know of and she’s off the charts for everything. STAR Labs would be able to give you a more detailed account of her abilities, but yes, Lucy is a metahuman. A powerful one for such a young age. Telepathic ability, even in metas, isn’t usually manifested until early adolescence. I expect her powers will grow exponentially as she matures. Her mother was powerful?”

Leslie met Bruce’s eyes and something passed between them that Selina didn’t quite understand. He bowed his head and Leslie turned from him, wanting so badly to take the big, strong man in her arms and allow him to cry. She’d known for a long time that Bruce was incapable of such an easy release. 

“I suppose the question now becomes what to do with her,” Leslie began. Selina and Bruce both spoke at the same time.

“I think that we’ll-” 

“Lucy should-”

They each halted in mid-sentence, glancing uncertainly at each other. Leslie smiled, nodding at Selina. “You first,” she said gently.

Selina folded her arms, taking an adversarial stance. “I don’t want her in an orphanage,” she said quietly, deliberately, staring at Bruce. “Or treated like a lab rat at some glorified metahuman prison. Clark told me what happens to metahuman children in places like that.”

Bruce nodded in agreement, surprising her. She’d thought he’d want to put Lucy on a boom tube to STAR Labs immediately.

“Would you want her?” Leslie asked Selina carefully. Selina closed her eyes and Leslie continued softly. “Lucy trusts you. She says you’re quiet.”

“Obviously she wasn’t listening to me snore last night,” Selina joked, her eyes much more serious than her tone. Leslie shook her head.

“Lucy tried to explain it to me. She says you’re ‘dark’. I think she can read people’s thoughts very easily. When she touches anyone but you all of their emotions flood in. She sees their pasts and futures. It’s overwhelming, to say the least. You’re closed to her.”

“And Bruce?” Selina asked, looking at him. Leslie frowned but Bruce nodded, wanting to hear it. 

“He disturbs her,” Leslie said softly. “Lucy doesn’t really know why.”

Bruce seemed unmoved by Leslie’s comment. He faced Selina directly. “Would you want her?” he asked, repeating Leslie’s question. 

Selina swallowed. “I’d care for her until someone more suitable could be found,” she replied, watching Bruce. Leslie’s eyes widened. 

“You’re suitable, dear,” she said, alarmed that Selina believed she wasn’t qualified to care for a child. 

Selina shook her head. “I’m not willing to play den mother, Leslie,” she told her. “Bad track record.”

“Holly-”

Selina clenched her fists, her eyes tight and angry. “I left Holly on the streets ten years ago, Leslie! When I became Catwoman, I decided Holly was a liability and I dumped her in a convent with Maggie. She never made it off the streets because I wasn’t willing to inconvenience myself enough to take her with me when _I_ escaped. And then what happens? Somehow, she manages to forgive me, the Black Mask kidnaps her and Maggie, and then Holly ends up shooting someone because I failed her. Again.”

Selina breathed deeply, bringing her confession into check. She glanced at Bruce, wanting, needing, to see censure in his eyes. He only stared at her blankly. Selina continued, more slowly this time. “Ask me how I am with kids, Leslie. We don’t mix. I refuse to put another child through the blender.”

“What if it’s a choice between you, STAR Labs and Gotham Family Services?” Leslie asked Selina, knowing the woman was being too hard on herself. She’d been barely seventeen when she’d left Holly. 

“Nothing permanent,” Selina said flatly. 

Leslie nodded, knowing that was as much as she could expect from Selina. Commitment had never been Catwoman’s strong suit. 

“Bruce?” she asked, her heart sinking. They’d spoken quietly about Lucy as she had plastered his arm.

“She doesn’t belong in state care or a metahuman lab,” he told the women. “Ideally, she belongs in a secure home with people who understand her condition but her ability to cope psychologically with the visions will deteriorate. Lucy will never be a normal child,” Bruce concluded. “She needs special care. Until we can determine exactly what that would entail, Lucy stays with us.” 

“Us?” Selina asked, looking up. “At the manor, you mean?”

Bruce nodded. Selina looked out at the city, then back to him.

“I was going to move back here,” she told him quietly. “I’ve been away from the East End for too long, Bruce.”

“I need you for patrol,” Bruce told her. “Robin and Batgirl can’t handle it alone, and I’m out of commission for at least a week-”

“Five,” Leslie corrected him. “That’s the third time you’ve broken that arm, Bruce. Five weeks rest, minimum.” Her steely gray eyes and firm demeanor booked no refusal. Bruce didn’t try to argue with her, which was troubling in itself. 

“You want me back in the manor, Bruce?” Selina asked him point-blank. He nodded. She kept her eyes on him. “For Lucy, for the mission, or for you?”

He could stand losing her, Bruce realized, if it could happen slowly. If he could hold her and watch it take place gradually, unwinding over long years. Everyone who had left his life had been taken without warning. It needed to be different with Selina. He knew she would go eventually, driven away from him because he was cold, calculating, cruel. But not like this. He refused to lose her by omission. 

“Stay,” he uttered roughly, not caring what Leslie witnessed. Selina bent her head.

“You know I can’t. This was a one-night stand that’s lasted well beyond its expiration date.”

“You don’t believe that,” he countered. “And neither do I. We belong to each other, Selina.”

She straightened, facing him directly. “And what does that say about us as people, Bruce? Is this all we ever get?”

__

It’s more than I’ve ever had, he wanted to say, knowing that it wasn’t true for her. She had something more waiting for her. 

Bradley. 

Bruce tightened his jaw, crossing the roof to touch her, the sun strange on his face. Leslie watched them both, her expression soft and sad. 

“I need you, Selina,” he whispered.

For a moment she was reminded of something that had happened between them during the No Man’s Land a few years ago. Batman - and he was firmly Batman then - had wanted Catwoman to steal a computer disk and bring it to him. She’d asked him how he could possibly pay her to do such a thing and he’d kissed her hungrily, promising payment with his body. The sheer arrogance of the move had shocked her: the computer disk had to be valuable and Selina doubted even Batman was _that_ good. She’d broken his kiss and asked, “What else?” 

Selina couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was trying the same thing again. She looked into his eyes, half-expecting to see Batman’s cowl firmly in place. Instead, in the warm spring sunshine, Bruce Wayne stood before her, his eyes open and honest. _He’s a boy scout_ , she reminded herself. _He has nothing to gain if you stay_. That last thought had the strongest ring of truth, at least to Selina’s ears. He wanted her. Loved her, maybe. Before she could reconsider, Selina Kyle made perhaps the biggest mistake of her life. She said, “Yes.”

*****************


	3. Changes

Later that night, in the enveloping darkness of the Batcave, Dick delivered his report to Bruce. “Babs is working through the list J’onn gave her of the people Jessica Bradshaw bumped off. It’s a long list, Bruce. Some Wayne board members are on it.”

“Johansen and Mulvihill?” he asked. Dick nodded.

“And still no sign of Helena or the Prophet. I know Miss Misery didn’t directly take responsibility for them, but-”

“Thanks, Dick,” Bruce said softly, cutting him off. “Good work.”

Dick looked a little surprised at Bruce’s words. He could count on one hand the number of times Bruce had complimented him in the ten years he’d been his son. “Uh, thanks,” Dick said uncertainly, glancing towards the costume vault where Selina was changing.

“So, where’re we patrolling tonight?”

“You and Selina will focus on the East End for the next week, barring unforeseen activity in the rest of Gotham. She’s been needed there, particularly in the Bowery, and can no longer afford to stay away.”

“What about you?”

Bruce turned back to the giant Cray computer system, tapping some of the keys to bring up a large-scale map of Gotham. “I’m staying here,” he told Dick.

Dick was stunned into silence for a few seconds. “You’re actually going to listen to Leslie and wait for your arm to heal?”

Bruce nodded. Dick felt like cheering. “You tell Alfred?”

Bruce nodded again. Dick grinned. “Well, that’s terrific! You know how he gets when you’re working injured. Might actually be safe to stop by and visit for the next few days-”

“I’m off for five weeks,” Bruce told him. Dick’s grin slowly faded.

“Five weeks?” he repeated. “I thought, sure, a week, fine, but-”

Bruce craned his neck to look at Dick. “Should I resume regular patrols sooner?”

“No, of course not,” Dick said quickly. “Not until you’re all healed. But this isn’t like you. I thought-”

“Alfred stays awake every night I’m gone,” Bruce said softly, his face blue in the light of the Cray’s giant monitor. “And I don’t think Leslie’s had a full night’s sleep in ten years either. They worry.”

“Why the sudden concern for them?” Dick asked. “Or for the rest of us?”

Bruce simply shrugged. “It’s time I grew up, Dick.”

Dick opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by Selina’s sudden appearance. She was wearing her Catwoman costume, her mouth set in a hard line of determination. “Ready?” she asked Dick. He nodded.

Selina pulled at the tight material covering her chest, trying to tug it into a more comfortable position. “I don’t know about this…”

“The Kevlar is necessary,” Bruce told her, rising. “You should have been wearing it years ago.” He touched her, stilling her fidgeting, and pulled once on the material over her ribs. The costume seemed to resume its normal shape. She felt his touch through the uncomfortably thick material and her eyes settled on his. Bruce was watching her, his expression one of slight amusement. She blinked. He was actually…flirting with her? As she tried on her very first bullet-proof vest?

“Weirdo,” she whispered under her breath, tipping her head back, watching him through her lashes to better gauge his reaction while concealing her own.

Bruce surprised her by wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her tight against him. He kissed her gently, his mouth barely brushing her own. Bruce released her just when things were starting to get interesting.

“Be safe,” he whispered, his voice rough. Bruce touched her cheek, then turned to Dick.

“Keep an open line to Oracle all night, no matter what. Batgirl’s patrolling west of the river. Good hunting.”

He exited the cave and both Dick and Selina watched him go with astonished expressions.

“Head injury?”

“Maybe, but I’m thinking Vulcan mind-meld.”

*****************


	4. Days of Blood and Roses

Selina let herself into the bedroom softly, listening for the sound of Bruce’s breathing in the dark. She was relieved when the soft, regular sound finally registered: it meant he was sleeping soundly, the ever-present nightmares allowing him a reprieve for a few hours.

Selina had slept with men who went to bed angry and woke up mean. Bruce wasn’t like that. Fear powered his dreams, not rage. She felt safe with him, even when his nightmares were at their worst. Tonight seemed like it had been a quiet night and she was glad for him. Bruce needed the rest.

Selina sank onto the bed, flattening out with a soft sigh as she settled into her favorite side, as close to his big, warm body as possible. It was…nice, she decided. Having a side. Having someone to come home to, especially after a night like this one had been. Selina and Nightwing had been working the Bowery, and Batgirl had contacted them just after 3am. They’d rushed to the scene of the second multiple homicide in Ottisburg in two days. Like the first murder, the victims had been dosed with SMILE-EX gas, a nerve agent favored by the Joker. Dick and Cassie had done the forensic work very carefully, their movements swift and sure as they worked to gather evidence before the GCPD arrived. The kids had been scared, Selina noted. The Joker had that effect on Gothamites, masked or not.

Bruce stirred, rolling over slightly to see the digital clock on the bedside table. “You’re late,” he told her, sounding like he’d been awake for hours. Selina closed her eyes, not wanting to turn the Joker into acceptable pillow talk.

“Busy night. I’ll fill you in tomorrow, okay?”

There was silence in the darkness, followed by a reluctant, “Okay.”

She felt for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. Bruce’s grip was warm and strong.

“Dick was wonderful out there,” she told him, yawning. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him in action.”

“You saw him down in the caves.”

“He didn’t get to show off his acrobatic abilities down there,” Selina pointed out. “And he does like to show them off. Circus, right?”

“Right,” Bruce responded, his thumb stroking hers. Selina relished the contact. It suddenly seemed like ages since they’d last made love. She thought about initiating something but decided against it. Between the condition of his arm and ribs and her bone-deep physical exhaustion, anything they attempted would probably end in spectacular failure.

She rolled over, pushed herself up on her elbows and kissed him, thinking that sometimes a little failure was good for the soul.

Bruce groaned against her and Selina deepened the kiss, closing her eyes. She opened her mouth, permitting his tongue to slide inside, hot and thick. His hand traced the delicate contours of her collarbone, the sharpness of her shoulder blade and the soft curves of her back, sliding down, slipping beneath the silken material of the nightgown she wore. He stopped inches from where she wanted him to be and Selina smiled in the darkness, her eyes flashing. She bit his lip, drawing blood.

Bruce lifted his head, staring at her in the darkness. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and she touched his chest, her fingers raking over the rough scar tissue covering muscle and bone. Her hand moved lower still, finding him in the darkness. She smiled at the undeniable evidence of his arousal, closing her hand over it. Unsatisfied, he pushed her back onto the bed. Ignoring the flare of pain in his ribs. Bruce arched his back, moving into her. Selina flexed her legs and settled into a more comfortable position, watching his face. Bruce didn’t close his eyes.

He watched her face as he moved within her, holding her eyes with his own as together they found a release allowed no where else. And he watched as he filled her, groaning as much at the dark pleasure in her eyes as at his own release. Bruce moved to kiss her after it was done. His body was covered by a fine sheen of sweat and his arm ached like hell but he held her. She clung to him and he realized that the wetness he felt against his bare chest was tears.

“What is it?” he whispered, stroking her hair with his good arm. Selina didn’t make a sound. He tilted her chin up and found her mouth in the darkness, kissing her deeply, tasting salt on her lips. “Tell me,” he ordered in Batman’s low growl.

Her head settled back against his chest and she smoothed her hand through the light dusting of hair sprinkling the few patches of skin on his chest not layered with scars. “I wanted…” she trailed off. He waited patiently for her to speak again.

“I wanted to do something with you that I’ve never done with anyone else.”

Bruce rubbed her arm, nodding slightly. Selina continued.

“But I couldn’t think of anything.”

His hand stilled on her bare skin and Bruce closed his eyes. “Is…Is that important to you? Does it matter?”

She lifted her head, dark hair falling in front of her eyes. He shifted his body, wanting to feel more of her bare skin on his own. One of her breasts, heavy and warm, brushed his side.

Her voice was quiet in the darkness of their room. “Maybe I wish it mattered more to you.”

He kissed her forehead, stroking her back. “It’s not that it doesn’t matter,” Bruce told her slowly. “I wish…I wish life had been different for you. Kinder. Your experiences…” He broke off. What could he say about the things she’d done? The people she’d done them with? “It bothered me,” he told her honestly. “When Dick showed me those pictures I wanted to believe that there had been some mistake. That you hadn’t really done those things.”

“And now?”

Bruce sighed, his breath ruffling her hair a bit. “ _Le temps détruit tout._ ”

“Time destroys everything,” she translated. “Jessica Bradshaw’s influence?”

Bruce looked at Selina. She tried to clarify her question. “You’re a creature of the past, Bruce. We all are.”

He touched her face, his rough, calloused hand smoothing over her cheek. “The past is an ocean, Selina. It’s always been like that for me. I keep expecting to surface but I’ve been drowning my whole life. Jessica Bradshaw-” He paused, licking his lips. “She offered to show me how to breathe.”

“And you didn’t take her up on it?”

Bruce kissed her, softly. “I need to find my own way.” He felt her nod against his chest. “And the pictures helped me to remember that you can overcome anything, even a sad part. Time, the past…it doesn’t need to destroy you.”

They were quiet for a moment, warm and secure in the darkness and with each other. Selina kissed him, rising to pull on her robe. “Hope springs eternal, huh?”

“Something like that,” he nodded. “Hope is all I have.”

“Put some pants on before you start making dramatic statements,” she advised, heading for the bathroom.

*******************

They had just begun to drift back to sleep when Selina felt Bruce press against her shoulder. He gestured to the bedroom doorway. Lucy stood there, silhouetted by the light flooding in from the hallway.

“Everything okay?” Selina asked the child, feeling at once guilty and worried. She’d meant to check in on Lucy after arriving home from patrol but had forgotten.

Lucy bowed her head and said in a quiet voice, “I had a nightmare.”

Selina glanced at Bruce. His attention was fixed on the little girl. “Do you want a glass of water?” he asked her.

Lucy shook her head, still hovering uncertainly near the door, Mr. Pickles clutched against the oversized T-shirt Selina had donated for Lucy to wear at night. Selina smiled, throwing back the covers. “C’mere,” she told the little girl.

With a relieved smile, Lucy crossed the room and slipped into the bed between Bruce and Selina. She cuddled against Selina happily but Selina could feel her small body shaking slightly. Whatever nightmares telepathic children had, Selina was sure they were worse than the garden variety monsters-under-the-bed dreams. She held Lucy tenderly, remembering what Leslie had told her. She was dark to the child.

“Do you have bad dreams?” Lucy asked Selina.

“Everyone does.”

“Even Mr. Bruce?”

He felt Selina’s eyes considering him in the darkness. Then Lucy’s small hand, finding his own. The child touched his palm for a moment, then withdrew. “Even you,” she said in a small voice. Bruce closed his eyes.

“Go to sleep, Lucy,” he told her. Bruce rolled over, careful not to touch Lucy. Something would definitely have to be done about the new sleeping arrangements at Wayne Manor. “Big day tomorrow.”

“I hate shopping,” the little girl said softly.

***************

“This one?”

Lucy tipped her head to the side, biting her lip. She looked uncertainly up at Bruce, who shrugged helplessly.

Selina sighed, putting down the pink sun dress on top of a pile of other rejected garments. She held up another dress, this one a soft yellow sprayed with a pattern of tiny blue flowers. “I know it’s a bit Laura Ingalls Wilder, but…”

Lucy and Bruce wore identical blank expressions.

Selina rolled her eyes. “Okay, so I’m the only one here that wasn’t raised in a cultural vacuum,” she muttered, tossing the latest strikeout onto the pile. Around them, activity at Bloomington’s Department Store, Girls Ages 5-10 ebbed and flowed as society mothers escorted their well-heeled daughters through racks of designer gowns for toddlers and coordinated pantsuits for prepubescents.

Alfred had decreed that Lucy should have more clothes than her one tattered dress and whatever small T-shirt could be pulled from Selina’s wardrobe. The butler had driven them to Bloomington’s Fifth Avenue, the shopping Mecca for Gotham’s social elite, and deposited them on the sidewalk with strict orders to purchase a full spring/summer wardrobe for Lucy. Selina had thought that, given the fact that Lucy was a telepathic four-year-old and Bruce had an IQ that would make Stephen Hawking blush, they would have found something by now. She’d discovered shopping wasn’t Lucy’s strong suit, precognitively speaking, and Bruce was a little disoriented by the bright patterns and domineering mothers frequenting the Juniors department.

“Okay, I’m going to close my eyes, pick six outfits and some pajamas, and then we’re out of here,” Selina declared. Bruce and Lucy sighed with relief. She shook her head sadly. Shopping was one of Selina’s great passions. She might favor leather and latex, but Selina had an almost religious devotion to fashion, and Vogue was her Bible. She had been shocked (shocked!) to discover that, while Bruce Wayne often looked as though he stepped directly from the pages of GQ, Alfred was the one who hit the department stores for him.

“Anything else you think you might need?” Selina asked, scooping up her selections for Lucy. A salesgirl materialized at her elbow and shouldered the burden, heading for the register. Selina suspected the girl could smell Wayne credit.

Lucy shrugged. “How many clothes do I need?”

Selina sighed. “Heathen,” she muttered under her breath. Bruce smiled but Lucy looked confused.

“C’mon, I know a place you’re guaranteed to like,” Selina promised, taking the child’s hand. Bruce lagged behind, taking care of the bill as Selina and Lucy headed for the toy store on the fourth floor. He ignored the stares and whispers of the Saturday-afternoon shoppers as they caught sight of Gotham’s most eligible bachelor escorting a gorgeous blond woman and her young daughter through Bloomington’s. Selina had donned a wig and some artfully-applied makeup in the chance that a paparazzo might try to score a few pictures, and Bruce was glad for the precaution. The day felt more relaxed because he didn’t have to worry if Selina Kyle would be recognized.

He reached Selina’s side just in time to watch as Lucy, transfixed, encountered the greatest toy store on earth. The child’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. Her grip seemed to tighten on Selina’s hand. “It’s okay, kiddo,” Selina said, bending over a little. “Go nuts. You’re being sponsored by the richest man in the state.”

Lucy nodded, not quite listening. She began to wander the aisles of stuffed animals, dolls, crafts and puzzle sets. Selina and Bruce trailed behind, slowing their pace to match the little girl’s limp. After a few minutes Selina nudged Bruce.

“Notice anything?” she asked him in a low voice. He kept his eyes on Lucy.

“She doesn’t touch anything,” Bruce said, watching as Lucy surveyed the blinding pink and fuchsia boxes of the Barbie aisle.

The child would lean close to examine the dolls in their plastic and cardboard boxes but she did not touch the cases. This was repeated until they reached the stuffed animals collected on deep shelves lining the back of the toy department. Lucy examined each animal meticulously, finally settling on a gray rhino. She extended her hand to touch the toy but hesitated, looking back at Bruce and Selina. They nodded in encouragement. Lucy finally picked up the soft plush animal.

“Can I have this one?” she asked, staring at the rhino. “Mr. Pickles would like him.”

Bruce knelt on the thick red carpet before Lucy to examine the rhino. “He’ll fit right in,” Bruce promised. Selina smiled.

Lucy looked again at the rhino, back at Selina and then in a gesture of simple gratitude she reached up to hug the big man. Bruce held the little girl awkwardly, remembering Leslie’s hesitant explanation that he “disturbed” Lucy. The child didn’t seem to mind, closing her eyes tightly. He set her down after a few moments and Lucy smiled, hugging the rhino close.

“Thank you, Mister Bruce,” the little girl said formally.

“Now,” Selina said, clapping her hands. “Who’s hungry?”

*********************

They sat on a bench in Grant Park near the old Green Lantern statue, devouring hotdogs purchased from a vendor a few feet away. Pigeons circled hungrily, eyeing their hotdog buns. Bruce watched them suspiciously, looking so much like Batman for a moment that Selina nearly choked. Lucy ate thoughtfully, watching the activity in the park around her with great interest. A group of children played on a swing set nearby and Lucy glanced at them repeatedly.

“Do you want another hotdog?” Selina offered. “Or maybe a snow-cone? The vendor has a better variety than a four-star restaurant.”

“No thanks,” Lucy replied politely, swinging her feet over the edge of the bench. She had changed into one of the new dresses Selina had chosen, a paisley print that hung past her knees. The day was sunny and warm and Selina was in no hurry to get back to the Batcave. Even Bruce seemed content to linger in the park.

“Well, I think it’s legally required that we hit the swings. Bruce?” Selina said, rising. She held her hand out for Lucy. The little girl looked up at her.

“Are you sure those kids will let us?” Lucy asked anxiously, eyeing the bigger children who were playing on the swings. “Mr. Pickles doesn’t like fighting.”

“Has he had to fight a lot?” Bruce asked. Lucy surprised him by slipping her hand into his much larger one. Her elephant companion had been tucked safely into the backpack Selina had thought to purchase. Mr. Pickles was now traveling in style along with the new rhino.

Lucy shrugged. “Sometimes there wasn’t enough to eat. Or a good place to sleep. Janie used to help us. But when she went away…we had to fight. Mostly we lost.”

Selina and Bruce glanced at each other over the top of Lucy’s head. Selina, for one, could relate. She knelt before Lucy, taking hold of her hand.

“You know things are going to be different from now on, right?” Selina asked, touching Lucy’s face. “You and Mr. Pickles don’t have to worry anymore.”

Lucy looked into Selina’s eyes and then glanced up at Bruce for reassurance. He nodded slowly, squeezing her hand. Lucy looked back at Selina and shrugged her thin shoulders.

“Okay,” the child said quietly. Selina nodded in approval, suspecting that Lucy might not be completely convinced. They just had to do a better job of making Lucy believe that she would be safe.

***************************

Catwoman waited on the rooftop in Ottisburg, extending her senses to the city around her. Ottisburg was a solidly lower-middle-class neighborhood, an area of Gotham occupied by families on their way up or down the rigid economic scale of 21st century America. It was a good place to wait, quiet, with little chance of a mugging or a rape to distract her. The residents of Ottisburg knew to be at home with the doors locked and shades drawn by 10 o’clock at night. No one walked the streets here. If they wanted drugs or sex, they would hop the 6 train to the nearby East End.

Selina’s home turf in Crime Alley was one-stop shopping for the degenerates of the city. They came from all over: Gotham Heights, TriCorner, Burnley…even the townhouses of the Upper East Side and the mansions of Bristol. If the East End was Jerusalem, Ottisburg was the Red Sea, a gateway to the promised land. Selina suspected that, if the Joker wasn’t terrorizing Ottisburg, it was someone from the East End who’d gotten lost and started a killing spree thirty-four blocks west. All the evil in the city seemed to flow from Crime Alley.

Dick didn’t buy her theory; he believed the killer was an Arkham early-release or a transient theme criminal. He was crouched beside her, listening. Batgirl was six blocks to the west: the pattern of SMILE-EX murders indicated this section of the district was vulnerable.

“We’re coming up to zero hour,” Nightwing told her. “All of the murders have happened between two and three in the morning.”

“How many does this make for you?” Catwoman asked him. He looked at her in question. “Stakeouts, waiting for a serial killer to strike. How many?”

Dick started to make the calculation in his head before he caught himself. “Too many,” he told her. “Why?”

“Just curious. You’ve been at this longer than me. Is the waiting always this tough?”

“We’ll get whoever’s doing this,” Dick told her softly, glad there was no wind tonight. He didn’t want to have this conversation while fighting to be heard above an April nor’wester. “You’ve never been on this kind of stakeout?”

She shook her head. “I’ve spent a lot of time casing for a job, but not…not waiting for someone to die so I could catch the bastard who did it.”

“No one’s going to die,” Dick replied quickly. “We’re here to stop it. And we don’t lose.”

“You sound like Bruce,” she told him.

“How’s he doing?” Dick asked, stretching his leg. “Things working out with Lucy?”

Selina shrugged. “He’s not bad around kids. I was surprised.”

“I was eleven when he took me in,” Dick said. “And he was pretty good with me, at first.”

“What changed?”

“I put on the Robin costume.”

They were silent for a moment, listening again for a shift in the whisper-stream of the city. Still nothing.

“Was he…” Selina tried, the words dying in her throat. “Was he a good father?”

Dick thought back to his reply when Jessica Bradshaw had asked him the same question and he tried to be more honest with Selina than he had been down in the Court of Miracles. “He did the best he could, Selina. I don’t think Bruce ever planned for me or Tim. Or Jason.”

She hated the way they all said his name. Jason. They spoke of him softly, reverently, like the priests had when uttering the name of Christ back when she’d attended mass. The lone martyr to their cause. Selina noticed the way they all avoided talking about the boy who’d died so many years ago and suddenly wanted to ask Dick what exactly had happened to Jason Todd. She wasn’t sure she’d like the answer.

“It’s Bruce’s birthday in a couple of weeks,” Dick mentioned, oblivious to the shift in Selina’s mood. “And if you want to annoy him, make a big deal out of it. He really, really hates parties.”

She tried to smile, tried to shrug off the lingering horror that danced at the periphery of her mind when she thought of Jason Todd. “Are you planning-”

“Not me,” Dick said quickly, holding up his hands. “I’m not crazy, mask and tights aside. But Barbara and I could watch Lucy if you wanted to do something special, maybe get him out of that lonely old house. He tends to brood if he’s not allowed out to patrol.”

“I’ll think about it,” she promised, rising slowly. The whisper-stream had shifted. There was death on the wind.

*****************


	5. A Pineapple Under the Sea

Bruce watched the brightly-colored cartoon character bounce across the TV screen, his brow furrowed in concentration. The high-pitched voices of the cartoons worked on his mind like the sound of nails scraping down a chalkboard, but Lucy seemed to like them. They sat on one of the huge leather sofas in the East Wing media room, which was a converted parlor soundproofed and renovated into a home theatre. Bruce had approved the installation of a 40” plasma television, surround-sound speakers and a powerful satellite system when Tim was living at the manor. Bruce had discovered he’d never even set foot in this room before Lucy had quietly suggested that morning that they watch some TV. He had started to object but the Lucy hadn’t known where to find a working set and Alfred had gone into the city to do some grocery shopping. Television seemed a preferable alternative to entertaining a four year-old by himself.

Bruce heard the door to the media room open and turned his head. Lucy, who was curled up in the opposite corner of the couch, didn’t look up from the TV. “Hi Selina,” the little girl chirped.

“Hi,” Selina replied, coming around to stand at the back of the couch. She touched the top of Lucy’s head, her hand lingering on the child’s soft, dark hair. “What are you watching?”

“I have no idea,” Bruce replied, blinking to help clear his head. “Have you ever seen this before?”

Selina glanced at the television. “Sure, Holly and Karon like it.”

“But this character…he’s a sponge?”

“With square pants,” Selina supplied, smiling softly.

“And he lives in a pineapple?”

“Under the sea.”

Bruce frowned at the TV. “He’s friends with a talking starfish. Named Patrick.”

Selina couldn’t help it. She smiled at the sight of Bruce, completely perplexed, glaring at the TV in disapproval as a yellow cartoon character danced and sang about nautical nonsense and good nutrition. She shook her head. Sometimes it was tough to separate the man from the Bat.

Lucy looked up, arching her back over the armrest of the couch to speak to Selina upside down. Mr. Pickles and his new friend, the rhino from Bloomington’s, slid slowly to the floor.

“Are you okay?” Lucy asked. Selina nodded.

“Just tired.”

Lucy righted herself, looked at Bruce and then back at Selina. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” the little girl announced solemnly, sliding off the couch and padding off to the kitchen, each of the big stuffed animals tucked securely her arms. Selina sighed and sat down on the couch next to Bruce. He turned off the television.

“More deaths in Ottisburg?”

Selina nodded, her eyes burning. “An old woman. SMILE-EX again. We were too late.”

“The nerve agent works quickly,” Bruce told her, his voice soft. “Any clues?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m starting to think we won’t catch this guy.”

“We will,” he said in a tone that booked no refusal. “The evidence is there. We just have to put it together.”

She sighed and leaned against his chest. He stroked her hair, noting how good she felt against him. How right. Asking her to stay had been the best decision he could have made.

“There is another option,” he said quietly. She felt the vibrations of his deep baritone through his chest. Selina let her eyes fall closed.

“Mmm?” she murmured, exhaustion already starting to claim her senses. Bruce dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

“Lucy might be able to tell us.”

Selina’s eyes flew open. She sat up and turned, watching his face. Bruce continued to speak.

“She might know who’s doing this. She could help us save some lives.”

Selina stood, scrambling off the couch, wanting suddenly to be as far away from him as possible.

“It’s an option we should consider,” Bruce said quietly.

Selina folded her arms. “You want to ask Lucy if she could tell us who’s killing those people in Ottisburg?”

Bruce nodded, wondering why she hadn’t thought of it sooner. And why he’d been so reluctant to suggest it.

“Bruce,” she paused, closing her eyes. “Has she talked to you about what it’s like when she looks into the future?”

Bruce shook his head. His conversations with the five-year-old were limited to subjects like cartoon sponges and what she should name her new stuffed animal.

“Ask her.”

Bruce stood and left the room.

*****************


	6. You Say It's Your Birthday

Bruce Wayne awoke on the morning of his thirty-eighth birthday and began the difficult process of extricating himself from between two sleeping females.

Selina had come to bed only hours before, collapsing into an exhausted slumber. She had been doing much the same for the last two weeks. He had no idea if she was still angry with him. Bruce wanted - hell, needed - things to be better between them. He wanted to apologize for their last encounter but he wasn’t sure if she was even speaking to him.

Right on schedule, Lucy appeared at their bedroom door an hour before sunrise. Wordlessly, Bruce had swept aside the sheets and waited until the little girl had snuggled into position securely between them. He knew that, like himself, Lucy never really slept until Selina was home.

The child stirred slightly and opened her eyes. Bruce felt immediately guilty. He knew she was sleeping for only three or four hours a night. Lucy spent most of the day following him or Alfred around the manor, watching the butler clean or observing silently as Bruce slogged through old case files in an effort to find a connection between the Ottisburg killings. She was a very quiet child, totally absorbed in her inner world and consumed by whatever visions haunted her. Lucy didn’t talk about her past life in the Court of Miracles, at least not with Bruce. She only really came alive around Selina.

“Are you getting up?” Lucy whispered to Bruce.

“I need to use the bathroom, Lucy,” he whispered back.

She yawned, her small pink mouth dotted with white baby teeth. She had lost one of her top front bicuspids and lisped slightly. “She doesn’t sleep so good if you’re not here,” Lucy mumbled, falling back into sleep. In the darkness of the bedroom, Bruce smiled softly. Thirty-eight didn’t look so bad, suddenly.

******************

Bruce sat back from the Cray monitor and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Still nothing. The forensic evidence Nightwing and Batgirl had gathered from the Ottisburg crime scenes was unrevealing. Whoever had murdered those people, they had been careful. No fibers, no DNA on the scene and Bruce wasn’t even sure how the SMILE-EX gas had been administered. The Joker usually detonated a chemical bomb in a closed area. This new player seemed to prefer some sort of topical application. He liked to touch his victims. A handshake, perhaps? Bruce theorized, his finely-trained mind going over the facts again. And again.

He came up for air hours later, unsure how many hours had passed. Time often lost its meaning in the depths of the Batcave. Alfred hadn’t been down to force a sandwich or some cold soup on him yet, which meant that less than eight hours had gone by. Bruce resisted the urge to check the time, to wonder if Selina might come down to speak with him before patrolling tonight. She couldn’t avoid him forever.

Dick pulled into the cave on his Nightbird cycle, one of the new toys he’d purchased with the trust money left to him by Pop Haley’s Circus. He hadn’t requested funds from Bruce in the four years he’d been operating in Bludhaven and Bruce had accepted it as part of the young man’s desire to strike out on his own. He had never told Dick how much he admired him for his desire to be self-sufficient.

“Is it brooding or sulking today?” Dick asked lightly, swinging his leg over the axle and getting off the bike. He removed his helmet and Bruce saw he was in his street clothes, not the Nightwing costume. Apparently it wasn’t quite time for patrol.

Bruce stood, not acknowledging Dick’s teasing question. He tapped a few keys on the computer, putting the Cray into sleep mode. The central processors still whirled, calculating statistical data for the JLA and running a sweep of the nation’s DMV and birth certificate registries for any red flags. Criminals were always finding new ways to beat the system.

“You’re early,” Bruce guessed, heading up to the manor proper. Dick grinned, trailing behind. The greatest detective in the world didn’t suspect a thing.

“I’m here to pick up Lucy,” Dick informed him. Bruce stopped short on the stairs.

“Why?”

“She’s going to catch a movie with Babs and I. Something with cute singing animals, probably.”

Bruce turned and fixed penetrating, analytical eyes on Dick, a stone-cold stare that was never challenged for long. People gave up any information he wanted when he used that look: he’d learned it from a high-level KGB interrogator in Moscow nearly fifteen years ago under rather unpleasant circumstances.

Dick, having been exposed to ‘The Look’ since the tender age of twelve, was unmoved. He simply grinned again, his mouth wide and relaxed. Rather than admit defeat, Bruce grunted in disappointment and tried another tactic.

“Where are Selina and I going tonight? She’s too creative for The Iceberg and too sophisticated for Montana’s.”

Dick’s mouth dropped open, the smile disappearing from his face like money from a political slush fund. He started to ask his father how he knew, but simply chuckled and shook his head.

“Don’t let on that you know, okay? Selina’s looking forward to surprising you.”

“I suppose the question now becomes, who told her it was my birthday?”

Dick held up his hands, making a big show of his innocence. “Smart money’s on Tim. He’s a squealer.”

Bruce turned and continued up the stairs into the study. He glanced briefly, as he always did, at the portrait of his parents, then continued down the hall into the kitchen. Lucy was there, watching intently as Alfred scrambled some eggs in a large saucepan. She held out a plate for the fluffy yellow eggs without being asked. Alfred nodded approvingly as he set the eggs on the plate and garnished them with chopped parsley.

“Good afternoon, Master Dick,” the butler said formally, handing the plate back to Lucy. She chewed the soft eggs slowly, juggling her new stuffed rhino and a fork. Mr. Pickles waited on the kitchen table.

“Hi Dick,” Lucy said, echoing Alfred’s formal tone.

“Hey, Lucy,” he smiled, picking up the child, plate, rhino and all. Bruce saw it then, a slight stiffening of her posture, a dull glazing-over of her bright brown eyes. In an instant, the change was gone. Dick hadn’t even noticed the shift. Bruce wondered if the momentary tensing was a sign that Lucy was peering into his son’s future. Had she liked what she’d seen?

Dick set the child on the counter and addressed her at eye level. He really was good with children, Bruce noted, thinking of Jim Gordon’s hope for a grandchild. Bruce tried to imagine himself as a grandfather and quickly shut down that train of thought.

“Can Stevie come to the movie, Dick?” Lucy asked him, holding up the rhino. Alfred had helped her decide on the name earlier that afternoon. He thought Stevie was an acceptable moniker for a stuffed animal and had told Lucy so, much relieved that she hadn’t insisted on Poopy or another such embarrassing name. Master Bruce had named every one of his stuffed animals after a bodily function when he was a child. Alfred was secretly glad he was not being asked to care for another young boy.

Dick nodded, wondering if Selina had told Lucy about their plans for the evening or if she had used her prognostic powers. He decided it didn’t matter. “As long as he doesn’t Bogart the popcorn, Lucy, Stevie the Rhino can do anything he likes.”

Lucy nodded gravely. Dick grinned and turned to smile at Alfred and Bruce, who were watching the little girl with equally serious expressions. Dick shrugged inwardly; he was used to being the only one at Wayne Manor who found anything funny.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Selina asked from the kitchen’s doorway, a knockout in a black Vera Wang sheath, a blood-red shawl held lightly in her hands. Her makeup was carefully applied, her body lean and firm beneath the silken material of the dress. Dick was suddenly reminded that this was Catwoman. The Feline Fatal. International jewel thief, scourge of the underworld, unrelenting thorn in Batman’s side. And he was babysitting for her.

“You look great!” Dick told her after it became clear Bruce wasn’t going to. He knew Selina would probably have to walk around naked to get any kind of reaction from his taciturn father, and even then…

Selina grinned at Dick but didn’t flush or murmur something modest. She was a woman who knew how to take a compliment.

Selina leaned casually back against the doorframe and Dick stole a glance at Bruce. His adopted father’s eyes were fixed on her and they were exchanging a long, slow, challenging gaze. Bruce quirked an eyebrow, and Dick knew it was official. The man was head over heels. The slight facial twitch was practically a declaration.

“I need a wig from the costume vault,” Selina told them.

“The blonde,” Bruce responded, his voice gruff. Selina shook her head.

“I wore it last Tuesday when we went shopping. Can’t have Bruce Wayne seen in the company of the same woman twice. Might make the secretaries jealous,” she teased. Bruce didn’t respond, but Dick’s eyes widened. If she knew about the secretaries…

“You need a necklace too,” Lucy suggested, her voice small and strange in the currents running between the three adults. “The shiny white beads.”

“The pearls?” Selina asked, perplexed. Karon and Holly had packed her jewelry from the East End apartment and she remembered seeing a strand of princess-length white pearls in one of the boxes the girls had packed for her. Pearls were far from her favorites (diamonds were her precious-gemstones of choice) but Lucy’s suggestion made sense. She knew the princess strand would look stunning over the black dress and they were headed someplace nice-

“No pearls,” Bruce said, his voice strange. Selina looked at him. Nothing about him had changed: he still stood in the center of the kitchen, a little apart from Alfred, Dick and Lucy, his arms folded across his chest, but she sensed something fundamental had shifted within him. Something about his eyes, something that made her think of the things she’d seen growing up in Crime Alley…

And then it was gone again, just a flicker of something moving deep beneath the surface. She found herself swallowing hard and nodding, silently resolving to give the necklace away without really understanding why. She came back to herself only when Bruce moved towards her. He brushed past her, saying over his shoulder, “I’m going to change.”

She looked up at Dick and Alfred, who were both staring at her. Lucy’s little face floated between them, and she too was looking at Selina searchingly. It occurred to Selina that they were all waiting for her reaction.

“Why?” she asked, her voice catching in her throat. Dick didn’t seem capable of an answer. Alfred scooped Lucy up off the counter, supporting the child on his hip. She rested her head against the butler’s chest.

Alfred looked at Dick, sighed, and spoke in a strange, sad tone very different from his accustomed sardonic delivery. “The night his parents were killed, Master Bruce asked Mrs. Wayne to wear her pearl necklace to the movies.”

His words echoed in the small, still room. Selina felt as though they had never been spoken aloud in this house.

“And the man who killed them…he might have done it for the pearls?”

Alfred stared at her and so did Lucy, her wide, dark eyes watching her uncertainly. Dick had lowered his head. Selina closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose, once, twice.

“I have six other strands,” she whispered.

*********************

Alfred pulled the Bently to a stop, classical elegance and taste standing out on a street lined with Jaguars and limos. Selina arranged the red wrap on her shoulders as she prepared to step from the car, hoping Bruce’s mood would lift slightly when they got inside the hotel. Tonight was important to her: it was the first ‘girlfriend’ thing she’d done that didn’t involve a whip or a leather costume.

Bruce got out first and helped her out of the backseat with his good arm, his expression channeling his idle playboy personae. Flashbulbs popped as Bruce Wayne revealed his newest conquest to the media. The paparazzi snapped a few dozen shots before they realized the tall, elegant woman at Bruce’s side wasn’t a movie star or European royalty. They kept snapping anyway, realizing sensibly that Selina was probably the loveliest woman to hang off the millionaire playboy’s arm in quite some time. Newsworthy or not, she was a story.

They pushed through the gauntlet of reporters to the hotel’s entrance and into the Ritz-Carlton’s lobby. Selina and Bruce paused in the midst of a mad crush of people waiting to get through the metal detectors and into the hotel’s ballroom. Everyone in the crowd was elegantly dressed in tuxedos or eveningwear, offering their clutches or empting their pockets for the security personal who busily waved metal detectors over the bodies of Gotham’s rich and famous. Selina waited patiently, keenly aware of Bruce’s presence just behind her. She could feel his eyes moving over the room, filing each detail away with methodical certainty, memorizing each face and cross-checking the information with his mental files on wanted criminals and corporate robber-barons. Apparently, his mood hadn’t lifted.

When they reached the front of the line feeding into the security trap Selina presented her small evening purse and Bruce handed over his wallet. She knew they had each concealed a costume somewhere on their person. Hers was folded carefully into her purse but it was a mystery where Batman kept his spare. Selina intended to weasel that information out of him during the course of the evening, among other things. To that end, she lifted herself on her toes, balancing easily on high heels as she placed a steadying hand on his shoulder and leaned in close to his ear, her breath fanning the hair around his temple.

“Look up, second floor, by the plastic palm tree.”

He did so, scanning the crowd in the area she’d pointed out, and straightened perceptibly. His remarkable mind had found a focus.

The man Selina pointed out was Edward Nigma, AKA the Riddler, missing from Arkham for nearly three months. With all the distraction of meeting with Jessica Bradshaw and the usual Gotham insanity, Nigma had gone unapprehended for far too long. Bruce had last heard he was in Jamaica and to see him in the ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton was quite a shock. He glanced at Selina, who smiled coyly.

“I called in some favors among my fellow dastardly villains. Nigma will be in the Diamond District later tonight so we can take him out now or change into our pajamas and get him then. Your choice. Happy birthday, Bruce.”

He wrapped his arm securely around her waist. Selina leaned into him and he kissed her fully, ignoring the pop of flashbulbs as tabloid photographers captured tomorrow’s cover shot. He broke the kiss reluctantly but kept hold of her hand as the security guard waved them through.

Soon they were seated in a quiet corner near a window with a spectacular view of the city. Candlelight glistened against the silverware and a red rose floated in a small glass bowl between them. Selina shrugged inwardly. Sure, it was cheesy, but they were playing a part tonight. Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle, out on the town. Later, they would wear Batman and Catwoman’s masks and take to the city’s rooftops. And somewhere between the bored society figures and the reckless vigilantes they would make time to be themselves. She hadn’t expected to fill that space for him, the place on the margins between his two identities. Selina had never separated Catwoman from Selina Kyle as rigidly as he had Bruce Wayne from Batman and it was a bit troubling that she was beginning to see her two identities as separate beings. The thought that soon a third person might emerge, one who wasn’t Bruce Wayne’s date or Batman’s paramour, gave her a headache. Sometimes she felt as if there were too many people standing between them.

The waiter came by to pour water into the thin crystal glasses before them. Selina examined the menu, carefully making her selections. Her French was a little rusty, but not quite as bad as her German. Thank God she hadn’t thought to drag Bruce to the Borsht Buffet on 169th street.

“Do you like this place?” she asked him, peering over the top of her menu. Bruce murmured something, still studying the wine list. He was trying to find something that looked enough like water that he could make the switch and avoid imbibing before they went out to catch the Riddler.

“We’ve been here before, you know,” Selina told him. Bruce looked up at her, narrowing his eyes as he thought about it. The Ritz-Carlton was the city’s newest four-star hotel, built just after the No Man’s Land ended in Gotham. It had been constructed with heavy donations from Wayne Enterprises as part of a stimulus package to encourage tourism in Gotham. So far, the stimulus hadn’t worked.

“Remember?” she prompted. “Think back. Way back in our checkered past.”

Then it came to him. Falcone. Batman had encountered Catwoman for the first time on this rooftop when it was the old Gotham Arms building, topped off by the Roman’s penthouse suite. And the wedding party. The night Johnny Vitti got married. He’d first met Selina Kyle here, too.

“I heard Falcone’s townhouse was destroyed during the 'Quake. I had no idea Wayne Enterprises had funded a hotel to be built over the site,” she said. “Was it an attempt to pave over the past, Bruce?”

He shook his head. “You overestimate the impact of those days,” he told her softly. Selina frowned, sipping at her water.

“I don’t think we can ever escape the past. I’ve spent ten years trying, and you’ve spent a lifetime. So maybe confrontation is best. We never really talked about those days, did we? The Roman and Harvey Dent…the way I betrayed you.”

Bruce set his menu down, touching her hand. Selina looked up. “What brought this on?” he asked her gently, his thumb stroking the soft flesh of her wrist.

“Lucy, maybe. Or I might just be tired of worrying.” She sighed. “Sooner or later someone is going to show up in our lives and accuse me of some old crime. They might not have access to the same kind of information that Jessica Bradshaw had. I doubt they’ll be using the Huntress or an old Gotham cop as their agents, but someone will come for me, Bruce. And they’ll be right.”

“Gordon wouldn’t-”

“Gordon hates me,” she hissed at him. “And if he thought I was guilty of some new crime, he’d put me away. It’s his job, Bruce. It’s just that things are different now, with Lucy. I never-” she hesitated, dropping her eyes. “I never wanted a supporting cast. Between Slam, Holly, Karon, Maggie, you and Lucy I’m practically a citizen. There’s a lot at stake now.”

“Would you prefer to be alone?” he asked her, the truth hitting him like a punch to the solar plexus. He wasn’t aware when he’d made the choice to include other people in his life, but he knew he’d made the decision. Selina was facing that same choice now, but it was different for her. He feared for the future of his loved ones. She worried that her past would destroy them.

Selina licked her lips. “I told Gordon that this…that this thing between us was a prison. I knew going in that I was going to come second no matter what. You would sacrifice me to the mission. You did it before,” she reminded him. They both thought of that cold morning ten years ago, the day after Valentine’s Day when she’d left him. Bruce had left her first.

“I’m no good with commitment,” Bruce said, his voice low. “If you wanted-”

“I don’t want a commitment, Bruce. We both know why that can’t happen,” she whispered. “And out of all the women you’ve ever loved - and I know there have been a few, most of them better people than me - I’m the only one who isn’t going to wait up for you at night. I’ll be out there with you. That’s what tonight was about.”

“The Riddler?”

Selina nodded. “I’m not asking Bruce Wayne for anything. I’m saying I’ll stick around for Batman.”

Bruce closed his eyes, wondering how to respond. The waiter appeared and delivered their meals. Selina began to pick at her food with her fork, still waiting for his answer. She was afraid of his response. He began to speak slowly, deliberately.

“I’m not Batman or Bruce Wayne, Selina. I’m both. A woman had to die to convince me of that,” he told her, the open, aching place in his heart hurting once again for Vesper Fairchild. Someone else he hadn’t been able to save. “I’m not sure how you fit into that equation yet. But I meant what I said to you at Leslie’s. We belong together. Twelve years ago, when we first met, I thought I wanted a partner.”

Her head came up, and she looked at him in question. He nodded.

“And now?”

Bruce decided to tell her.

“I want a wife.”

Her eyes widened and she looked around anxiously, wondering if there was a hidden camera somewhere. He had to be joking. Bruce tried to explain, unaccountably hurt at the wild fear in her eyes. He’d expected this to go more smoothly, somehow.

“Jessica Bradshaw showed me the future,” he told her. “And in it, I was alone. I had alienated everyone and everything I had ever cared about. It was like starting over again. I was back in Crime Alley watching my life collapse.”

She watched him as he struggled to say it. He had never spoken of his parents’ deaths before, at least not with her. “And I can’t stand for that to happen again, Selina. I want you to be a part of my life. And Lucy.”

“I hope this isn’t a marriage proposal,” she warned, smiling a little despite herself. “I’m still legally dead, remember?”

“It’s not a proposal,” he assured her, his blue eyes twinkling. She hadn’t known they could do that. “It’s a…suggestion. A promise to consider it, someday, when I’m not so-”

“Crazy?”

Bruce smiled a little. “Unsettled,” he compromised. “And when you’re in a more secure place. We still have a lot of work to do in this city. Alfred used to tell me that you cannot work to improve humanity from the outside of it. Jessica Bradshaw tried to show me that my fate was always to be an outsider. I can’t try to atone for the past anymore, Selina, by hurting others. So if you’ll think about it-”

“Okay, stop with all the talking. It isn’t like you,” she grinned. “You’re going to wear yourself out. This was just a fancy way of saying, ’Hey kid, I like your style. Let’s team up to fight the bad guys and then we can play footsie afterward’, right?”

“We’re working towards something more than that, I think,” Bruce corrected her.

Selina smiled, joy bubbling up inside. He might not have much of a sense of humor. He might be cold, calculating and deliberately cruel sometimes. But he was a hero, perhaps the best man she had ever met. And he wanted her. More importantly, she wanted him.

“Let’s dance,” she suggested.

************************

The call came in just as they were handcuffing the last of the Riddler’s gang to a handy lamppost outside the Gotham Diamond Exchange. Barbara’s voice came over the Oracom channel, cool and efficient as she directed them to Ottisburg. For the fourth time in as many weeks Selina entered the district with a cold feeling of dread settling like iron at the bottom of her stomach. Bruce shadowed her, grim and silent in Batman’s cape and cowl. He’d managed to avoid the use of his arm and Selina had been impressed as she always was with his versatility in hand-to-hand combat. She was glad she didn’t have to worry about fighting him anymore.

They reached the address Oracle had given them and watched as Batgirl emerged from the shadows near the porch. The house was quiet, a prefab construction job done cheaply and designed for a large family.

“How many?” Batman asked Cassandra. She held up six digits.

Catwoman left them on the porch as Batman and Batgirl looked for the point of entry the murderer had used. She entered silently, slipping into the house and shivering. Two bodies were slowly cooling on the white carpet in the living room. An older man, the grandfather, she guessed, and a teenage boy were prone on the floor, their faces hardened into the grotesque grin which signaled a SMILE-Ex exposure.

She had seen death before, and what she noticed most was the expression of still finality on the faces of the dead. These people did not bear that expression. They had died in pain, slowly choking on poison gas invented by one of the worst criminals in the world. The grandfather and the teenage boy had tasted the bile of their lungs before they had died, and the last thing they had seen was the horrified grin on each other’s faces.

Selina kept moving through the house, up the stairs and into the master bedroom. A man lay on the bed, holding a toddler. The child was still and cold. She turned from the sight of the poisoned smirk on the dead baby’s face.

A light had been left on in the bathroom. The bare bulb shone out into the bedroom, illuminating the father and baby on the bed. Selina wanted to turn off that light, to sit in the dark for a while and try to contemplate the evil in the world. She entered the bathroom, her hand frozen over the light switch.

A woman lay naked in the overflowing bathtub. The water was red with her blood, which streamed from two slashes running the length of the woman’s arms. Her mouth was open, dark eyes staring coldly at the ceiling. A straight razor, its glittering blade stained crimson, had fallen out of the woman’s hand onto the floor.

Selina stumbled backwards, a small, choking cry escaping from her throat. She whirled, leaned over, and vomited onto the bedroom carpet. So much blood.

Bruce was there suddenly but she didn’t remember hearing him come up the stairs. He went into the bathroom and exited a moment later, watching her fight for control. Batgirl was right behind him. She had already seen the bathroom. Cassie touched Selina’s shoulder gently and with that, Selina broke. She sobbed uncontrollably, still seeing the woman’s pale gray body surrounded by red water.

It was clear what had happened. The SMILE-Ex gas had claimed the grandfather, the son, the husband and the baby girl. The mother had come home late, perhaps from working a double-shift at one of the gas stations or diners on the outskirts of Ottisburg. She’d found the bodies of her family. Then she’d run a bath.

Six victims. Three generations gone, and she and Bruce had been dancing (dancing!) at the Ritz-Carlton while it happened. Selina fell to her knees, dragging the Catwoman mask up and off her head. She couldn’t seem to breath. Somewhere, far away, she heard Nightwing’s voice. Dick had just arrived.

Cassandra’s touch deserted her and Selina kept her eyes focused on the carpet, watching the blue and green dots swim before her eyes. It was a long time before she could stand. When she finally did, Dick took her arm gently.

“Bruce?” she asked, her legs threatening to collapse. Dick shook his head.

“He and Batgirl went to find the person who did it,” Nightwing informed her. Selina didn’t remember anything more.

******************

Voices woke her, soft and far away. Selina sat up, trying to remember how she had gotten home and into bed. She was still wearing her Catwoman costume but the mask was gone. The leather felt cold and strange against her skin and as she got up, Selina wrapped a blanket around herself. It was still dark outside and she followed the sound of voices, pausing outside the kitchen doorway when she heard her name.

“…and Selina just collapsed?”

Dick’s voice. “She must have seen worse before.”

“Her mother killed herself when Selina was eight. She found the body in the bathroom.”

Bruce.

She squared her shoulders, pushing through the swinging door and into the kitchen. Dick leaned against the counter, still in his Nightwing costume. Bruce was sitting at the table, wearing jeans and a sweater. He strictly observed the ‘no costumes in the house’ rule. The fact that he had bothered to change could mean only one thing.

“You caught him?”

Bruce and Dick looked up. Bruce rose slowly, relieved to see that Selina wasn’t still in shock.

“No,” Dick told her. “Still nothing. The forensics-”

“Then let’s get back out there,” Selina said, dropping the blanket from her shoulders. “What happened to my mask?”

“We have no way of finding whoever did this without forensic evidence,” Bruce told her flatly, stooping to pick up the blanket. He resisted the urge to touch her and reassure himself that she was all right. She hadn’t stopped shaking for an hour after they pulled her out of the house in Ottisburg.

“We need to know what we’re looking for before we hit the streets,” Dick explained gently.

“So run your postmortems,” Selina said, turning to leave. “I’ll head back into the city. You can contact me when you’ve found something.”

Bruce caught her arm, his touch a gentle pressure through the leather costume. “You should rest.”

“I’m fine,” Selina informed him coolly. Bruce dropped his arm. “You should be running your tests.”

Bruce met her eyes directly. “There’s another option.”

She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “And we already decided not to exercise it.”

Bruce folded his arms. “Lucy-”

“You want Lucy to focus in on the man who did that? You want a four-year-old child to see what we saw tonight? Because she will. She dreams these things, Bruce. She’ll see the whole thing. The bodies…the bathroom…” Selina shivered. “How could you even be considering this?”

“I’m trying to save some lives,” Bruce replied quietly. “You know this will continue until we can figure out who…”

“Not like that,” Selina shook her head. “We don’t involve Lucy. Find another way.”

“I’m not sure I can,” he confessed softly. “The crime scenes have been clean. The victims are unconnected. The only thing we know is that, for some reason, the killer is striking in Ottisburg. And that isn’t enough to go on, Selina. I-” He stumbled, fear moving deep in his eyes. “I don’t think we can find him without Lucy’s help.”

Selina folded her arms, glancing at Dick. He seemed unwilling to weigh in on this argument. Coward, she thought savagely.

“You ask that child anything - anything - about tonight, and I swear to God, Bruce, you’ll live to regret it.”

She delivered her ultimatum in Catwoman’s low, threatening tone, a voice he hadn’t heard in more than three years. Bruce stepped back, a little shocked by her response. Surely she could see that, with Lucy’s help, the SMILE-Ex killer could be apprehended before sunrise. Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but Selina cut him off.

“I’m going back into the city. I might have a few sources there who could point us in the right direction. Keep working the forensics,” she advised, heading out into the hallway and down into the Batcave.

Dick stepped closer to Bruce. He was staring fixedly at the kitchen doorway. Bruce was tense, although Dick couldn’t tell if he was angry or worried. He touched Bruce’s shoulder and his adopted father spoke in a cold, dead voice.

“Follow her, Dick. Keep her away from the house.”

Dick froze, staring at Bruce. Dick opened his mouth to speak but the cold resolve in Bruce’s face stilled him. Dick replaced Nightwing’s mask and headed for the Cave.

He was a good soldier.

*****************


	7. Institutional Life

The Adams Psychiatric Institute never really slept. Patients were drugged after nine o’clock, but a place like the Adams Institute was always alive with some small sound at night. The squeak of the nurses’ shoes on the linoleum floor, the beep of life-support machines from the long-term ward and the anguished screams of the truly lost filled the hallways. Security here was less vigilant than at Arkham Asylum: although the patients were more violent, they were usually less prone to escape. Even so, the Institute had a sophisticated security system geared towards keeping patients in rather than keeping cat burglars out. As a result, Selina had no trouble slipping inside and finding her way to room 241 on the second floor.

There was a light on in her sister’s room and Selina waited in the shadows for the nurse to finish with Maggie. Her heartbeat was slow and steady, her breathing carefully restricted. She never had better control of herself than when breaking into or escaping from something.

The door to Maggie’s room opened and Leslie Thompkins emerged, her medical bag in hand. Selina stepped from the shadows and touched Leslie’s shoulder. The older woman jumped a little, closing her eyes. “I see you’ve picked up some bad habits from him,” she said. Selina simply stood there. Leslie sighed, turning and opening the door to Maggie’s room again.

“Let’s talk,” she suggested. Selina followed her inside.

Maggie’s room was softly illuminated by starlight streaming in from between the steel grates on the windows. Her room was large, spacious, private, a luxury afforded by the check Bruce Wayne sent every month. A single light burned above the bed where Magdalena Kyle lay, wide-eyed and catatonic. She was fed thru IV and a catheter carried the wastes from her body. Her life was divided into cycles between sponge baths, Leslie’s visits and the number of times the nurses came in to turn her over in prevention against bedsores. Maggie was lost.

“How is she?” Selina asked softly, looking at her sister’s still, silent form. Leslie sat down in the creaky wooden chair by the bed.

“It was a good day, Selina. She’s been becoming more and more responsive. Given time-”

“She’ll never recover, Leslie.”

Leslie shook her head. “It’s important that you not give up on her. Maggie’s illness is psychologically-induced. She will recover physically when her mind does.”

“And if it never does?”

“What happened, Selina?” Leslie asked softly, hating to see her friend in pain. “Did Bruce-”

“He wants to use Lucy’s powers to catch the Ottisburg serial killer.”

Leslie bowed her head. “And you don’t want him to?”

Selina’s head came up, the light from above Maggie’s bed flashing over her goggles. “No, I don’t,” she hissed. “Because he won’t stop with one case. Soon he’d use her for everything. And that’s no life for a kid.”

“You really believe he’d do such a thing?” Leslie asked, surprised. “Lucy means more to him than that.”

Selina shrugged. “Are you sure?” she asked. “Didn’t Jason Todd mean a lot to him too?”

“Jason Todd died because he was impulsive and irresponsible,” Leslie said, her tone slightly angry. “He refused to listen to Bruce.”

“So you’re blaming a twelve year-old for his own death instead of the man who put him in that situation,” Selina clarified. Leslie closed her mouth, pursing her lips.

“It’s more complicated than that, Selina. And I think you’re a very hard marker when it comes to this sort of thing. I know how you’ve blamed yourself for what happened to Maggie-”

“Because it was my fault!” Selina cried, clenching her fists. “I’m the one who stole diamonds from the Black Mask. I’m the one who trusted Sylvia Sinclair. Maggie came to Gotham because of me, because somehow she was willing to forgive me for abandoning her all those years ago. Then the Black Mask kidnaps her and feeds her husband’s eyeballs to her. My fault, Leslie. All of it.”

Leslie brought her head up. “And do you disapprove of Bruce’s suggestion about Lucy as his lover or his former enemy?”

She shrugged. “Both. Because I’ve had experience in sacrificial lambs myself,” Selina told Leslie, waving her hand over Maggie’s body. “People get caught up in our world and they die. Or they get hurt. I never really understood why he takes these kids in, how he can stand the thought that maybe one of them will die because he took them in. The guilt-”

“Bruce needs these children, Selina. They are the only family he has ever known.”

“There are lines, Leslie,” Selina muttered, shaking her head. “Lines you cannot cross. I know you want him to be happy, but if he steps over into the abyss, if he uses that child to further his war on crime, then he’s lost. He’s no better than the pimps I knew growing up.”

Leslie folded her arms. “Have faith in him, Selina. He’ll do the right thing.”

“I hope to God you’re right, Leslie. Because if you’re not…I’ll have to stop him.”

The two women sat together in the quiet room, the beep of Magdalena Kyle’s heart monitor slow and steady as it echoed through the oblivion that surrounded them.

*****************

Bruce waited until Dick’s footsteps faded away down the hall. He exited the kitchen, taking the grand staircase up into the East wing, his footsteps heavy, purposeful. Twenty paces down the hall, and then Lucy’s door, white against the dark grain of the wood-paneled walls.

He paused for a moment, his ear ringing. Residual damage from that blast in the yacht basin all those months ago? Bruce shook his head, tensing his jaw until the ringing stopped. He pushed on the doorknob.

Lucy was sitting on a rich red mat, her stuffed animals spread out before her. One of the cats, the gray tabby, was a reluctant third party to some sort of game involving Stevie the Rhino and Mr. Pickles. Bruce watched as Lucy walked the rhino up and over the cat, humming a soft song.

“Hello Lucy,” he said softly from his position near the door. Lucy didn’t look up. The cat regarded him with the cool yellow eyes of a predator.

Bruce crossed the room, coming to stand above her as he waited patiently for the child to acknowledge him. The rhino fell forgotten to the side. Lucy stood, keeping her eyes averted. Bruce touched her shoulder, swallowing past the hard lump in his throat. He couldn’t let the murders continue. Too many good people had already died.

The instant he touched her shoulder, Lucy flinched. He kept his large, heavy hand firmly on her shoulder, stooping to address her as his still-healing ribs screamed in protest. “It will be all right,” he told her stiffly. “I just need to know…”

Bruce saw that the little girl had begun to cry. Lucy kept her eyes closed tightly, her tiny chin wobbling as she fought for control. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she sniffled.

“I can’t,” she whispered. Bruce had to lean closer to hear her. “I can’t see him. He’s a bad man, Mr. Bruce.”

“Who is he, Lucy?” he asked her, his soft, deep tones filling the whole of the room. She tried to back away again. Bruce tilted her chin up, saying “Lucy” in what he hoped was a soft, encouraging voice. “Just tell me who he is.”

She shook her head and, with surprising quickness, pulled out of his grasp. She turned, her twisted foot collapsing beneath her. Lucy fell to the floor, landing hard on her side. Before he could react, she turned and looked up at him, her brown eyes wide and dark. He stared at the child.

“Please, Mr. Bruce-”

Bruce knelt beside her, his arm at an awkward angle. He stroked her hair, looking into her eyes. She was so small and frightened. Much like he had been, so many years ago. “Please, Lucy, it’s important.”

The little girl took a deep breath, squeezing the elephant tightly. “I don’t think Selina would want me to.”

Bruce looked her directly in the eyes, forcing the lie, thinking suddenly of Clark and how he would disapprove. Or Diana. He pushed those thoughts aside as he had so many times in the past. None of them were responsible for Gotham.

He would do whatever was necessary to protect the innocents of this city.

“She asked you to, Lucy. You just couldn’t see how much she wants you to tell me about the bad man. Selina is dark to you, remember?”

The child nodded her head slowly, looking up at him. “Promise?” she whispered.

Bruce nodded.

She closed her eyes and told him about a serial murderer in Ottisburg. The cat continued to watch, its yellow eyes glistening in the gathering darkness of Wayne Manor.

*****************


	8. Low Road to the Mountain

It was nearly sunrise by the time Dick caught up with Selina. He’d searched for her in every borough in the city, from Tricorner to the Upper East Side to the Hill. Hours of searching and here she was, sitting on the El line deep in the heart of Crime Alley, probably waiting for him. She certainly wasn’t trying to catch the subway out to Robbinsville: trains hadn’t run over the elevated track at night in nearly six years. Native East Enders knew not to take the subway cutting through Crime Alley after midnight.

“Get anything from your sources?” Nightwing asked Catwoman as he landed beside her on the El track.

She shook her head. “Nothing. The Ottisburg killer isn’t connected to anything in Crime Alley. I guess I was wrong about that.”

“It was a good theory, Selina. Nine times out of ten, it’s either a theme criminal or some psycho from the Bowery responsible for these kind of things,” Dick told her, thinking that maybe he was talking too much. He was sure she could hear the nervous edge in his voice.

Selina curled up her legs and rested her chin on her knees. She was looking north, towards Amusement Mile. Dick had often wished Wayne Enterprises would buy the old fairgrounds and demolish the entire strip. There was something about dilapidated roller coasters and broken Ferris wheels that attracted theme criminals. The Joker had stationed his last three headquarters in the old fairgrounds.

“I remember watching the lights from here,” she told Dick. “You could see the big Ferris wheel from the rooftop of our apartment building. I guess I was too young to realize how tacky neon really is. I used to think the colors were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. My mother-”

Selina swallowed hard past the roughness in her voice. “She took Maggie and I to Our Lady of Sorrows once, for afternoon mass. The way the sunlight hit the stained-glass windows, I really thought, just for a moment, that there was something more beautiful in the world than the neon at the pier. The lights have all gone out now, Dick.”

Dick touched her shoulder, not knowing what to say. Or how to explain to her that Bruce’s plan would work itself out. Selina seemed so fragile suddenly. He’d never have expected her to react the way she did at the crime scene in Ottisburg. Then Dick remembered a story Alfred had told him once. When Bruce was younger before going overseas to begin his training, he couldn’t even look at a gun without losing control. And Selina was, what? Not even thirty. Bab’s age. Why did he expect her to be so hard when faced with her worst nightmares? Dick was still terrified of Two-Face, Barbara broke into a cold sweat whenever the Joker broke out of Arkham, and Bruce…Bruce had felt it necessary to force himself to buy a gun.

“There are still lights out there,” Dick told her softly, pointing to the Upper East Side and Miller Harbor in the distance. And the RKM Bridge, illuminated with blue and red beacons at the tops of the suspension towers.

“Do you believe in him, Dick? Can you trust him to do the right thing?”

“Absolutely,” Dick said quickly. “He’ll do the right thing, Selina.”

“And what do you think ‘the right thing’ is, boy scout?”

Dick hung his head. Selina stood.

“No easy answers in Gotham, remember? But if he drags another child into his world-”

She broke off. The Oracomm channel had begun to beep in their ears. Selina turned to Dick, his masked face reflected in her goggles.

“He already asked Lucy, didn’t he?”

Dick continued to stare at the fairgrounds. Selina’s mouth tightened and she uncoiled the whip from around her waist. She dove off the El track as Dick answered Oracle’s signal. Babs fed him the information and Dick watched Selina move like a shadow across the city towards the RKM Bridge and Bristol.

******************

For the last time, Selina let herself up into the manor proper from the Batcave below. She didn’t bother to remove her costume. Bruce was still up, standing at the window, watching the city as the sun rose. He turned when she entered the room.

She stood there in the doorway, sunlight bright in her eyes. Bruce was a dim outline against the rising light. She saw him move toward her and she retreated a bit, keeping a wide physical distance between them.

“Lucy?”

Bruce pointed to the bed. There, amid the tumble of linen and comforters lay the small child, her tear-streaked face composed in uneasy sleep. Mr. Pickles and Stevie stood guard on either side of her small, imperfect body.

“Was it bad, Bruce?” Selina asked. “Did she cry out?”

He wouldn’t look at her.

“She told us who did it,” he informed Selina. “A man from Ottisburg whose family was murdered by the Joker six years ago when Bane freed all the Arkham inmates. He would have kept going. He wanted a body count to rival the Joker’s, Selina. We wouldn’t have guessed unless Lucy-”

Selina held up her hand, stopping his soft words of explanation. The sun was higher behind him now, and she could see his eyes.

“I-” she stopped, her voice breaking. Selina let out a long, shuddering breath and continued. “How could you?”

“What did you expect me to do?” he asked her quietly. “How many more would it have taken before you realized how necessary it was? I made the choice so you didn’t have to.”

She stared at him in shock. Bruce was only waiting, his expression as closed to her as ever. Six months, and she still couldn’t read his eyes.

“What you did was unforgivable,” she told him softly. “You should have-”

“I did what I had to do, Selina,” he said tiredly. “What I’ve always done. Pass judgment if you like, but-”

She strode forward, tearing her mask off her face and throwing it into a corner of the room. “Pass judgment? I don’t even know what to think! Do you have any idea what it means that you’re willing to use a child for…” Selina trailed off, narrowing her eyes. “Of course you do,” she whispered. “You’ve always known what it means to bring a child into our world. Bruce, how can you live with yourself?”

He fixed cold, penetrating eyes on her and Selina lowered her head. She knew how he lived.

“I thought you were a hero,” she whispered. “I…I owe everything to you. How can you…how can you be this person?”

“I never pretended to be anything more than what I am, Selina,” he told her.

She raised glistening eyes to his own, her heart tearing inside of her. “You are the only decent man I have ever known. You’re telling me he never existed.”

He continued to watch her mutely.

She lowered her head, sad and silent. He was a stranger to her again.

“I want to host a dinner party,” she said. “Invite all of them. Tonight. Tell Alfred I’ll pay for the catering.”

“Why?”

She turned to him, her eyes fired by the sun, magnificent in her anger and terrible beauty. “Just get them here. I want a vote for Lucy.”

“Selina-” he began, his voice hardening. “Selina, this isn’t a democracy. And I don’t think that-”

“Just tell them about the dinner.”

She crossed the room and climbed into bed, drawing Lucy into her arms. The little girl seemed to recognize Selina’s presence. Lucy sighed in contentment, the darkness over her features lifting a little.

“Now get out.”

*******************

Lucy’s screams woke her at five o’clock. The child clutched Selina madly, torn from her dreams by visions she couldn’t escape. Selina held her gently and touched her face, rocking her slowly, murmuring words of comfort she remembered saying to someone else before. Maggie, maybe.

“It’s okay. Shhhh…” she whispered. Lucy’s sobs finally quieted to sniffles and Selina retrieved a box of Kleenex from the bedside table, wiping the little girl’s face. Lucy’s hair was a nest of tangles, her nightgown rumpled and twisted around her legs. Selina straightened the gown and the sheets, sitting up so Lucy could curl next to her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Selina offered. Lucy shook her head, burying her face against Selina. It was a long time until the child stopped shaking.

“Lucy,” Selina asked in a low tone of comfort, “were you dreaming about something bad?”

The child nodded. “I saw a bad man,” she said in a shaking voice. “Mr. Bruce wanted me to. He said that he would catch the bad man if I told him how.”

“He did, Lucy,” Selina told her, kissing the top of the child’s head. “But he shouldn’t have asked you to help.”

“I want him to like me,” Lucy confessed in a small voice. “He’s sad and lonely sometimes. So am I. Are you mad at Mr. Bruce?” Lucy asked hesitantly.

Selina nodded, biting her lip. Lucy hugged Stevie and Mr. Pickles tighter.

“Don’t leave, okay?”

“I won’t leave you,” she promised quickly, tilting Lucy’s chin up so she could meet the little girl’s eyes. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I can’t tell sometimes,” Lucy replied, sniffing. “You’re dark, Selina. I can’t tell if you’re going to be okay.”

Selina hugged her tightly. “I’m a survivor, kid. It’s my job to be okay.”

“What about Mr. Bruce?”

“Have you seen something about him, Lucy?”

Lucy wrinkled her nose. “It changes. Sometimes he’s happy. Sometimes he’s not. I saw him once as an old man in a big, empty house. Another time he was building robot Batmen. And he had a son, not just Dick. I couldn’t figure it out.” Lucy sighed. “I wish Miss Misery was here sometimes. She was good at telling me what stuff meant.”

“Can you ever turn it off?” Selina asked, stroking the child’s bare arm. Lucy’s skin felt cold.

She shrugged. “It’s hard, but I can stop doing it during the day except when someone touches me. But at night…” The child seemed unwilling to continue her sentence.

“The night is tough for everyone,” Selina agreed. They sat silently for a long time.

 

*****************


	9. Moral Authority

The entire family gathered in their prescribed places around the grand dining table. It was a replay of Christmas: Bruce sat at the head, Dick, Barbara, Cassie and Tim arranged around either side. Alfred stood at attention in the corner. Dr. Thompkins was there as well, seated beside Tim, her face creased in worry. Tim and Cassie seemed confused and Leslie wondered if the purpose of this dinner had been explained to them. They waited in silence, the minutes stretching long. They were even more miserable now than they had been at Christmas, if that were possible.

Finally, as the clock in the study struck six, Selina entered the dining room. Lucy wasn’t with her. The men stood and she took her place at the foot of the table, waiting until everyone was again seated. She wore a creamy blouse and a gray skirt, her hair swept back and pinned at the sides, her face composed. Bruce noticed slight swelling around her eyes and wondered if she had been crying.

“Thanks for coming. I’m sure we all had better things to do tonight,” Selina told them. She faced each one in turn, these children and hangers-on Bruce had collected over the years. They faced her with open curiosity and apprehension.

“You all know that Daniel DeMatteis, the Ottisburg killer, was apprehended early this morning. And you know how we caught him.”

Everyone nodded save Bruce. He continued to stare at her, his face tight and drawn.

“I want all of you to weigh in on what Lucy’s involvement should be in this little operation.”

This decree was greeted by shocked stares and gaping mouths. Tim half-rose out of his seat before Leslie caught his wrist and yanked him back down. Selina faced them all coldly, her emerald eyes as remote as Bruce’s.

“What the hell is this?” Barbara asked angrily. She turned to Bruce. “Now she’s making the decisions about how we run things?”

Bruce didn’t respond. He continued to stare at Selina.

“I’m here to speak for Lucy,” Selina replied sharply, fixing cold, hard eyes on Barbara Gordon. “You all have your own motives and commitments. Someone has to be Lucy’s advocate.”

“What exactly are we talking about here?” Leslie asked from her position between Gordon and Tim. “You’re thinking of adopting Lucy officially?” she asked Bruce. Everyone turned to him.

His eyes never left Selina’s face. He nodded.

More shocked expressions. Tim checked Dick’s reaction. The former Boy Wonder failed to raise his head. Tim looked back at Bruce. “When did you decide that?”

“He’s been thinking about it for a while,” Selina informed them. “Catching the Ottisburg killer sealed the deal. He catches a mass-murderer, Lucy gets a last name.”

Dick squeezed his eyes shut, pain at Selina’s accusation lancing through him. “That’s not how it’s done!” Dick yelled, rising. He shrugged off Barbara’s touch. “He doesn’t just collect us, you know!”

“No, I don’t know that,” Selina replied quietly, her eyes warmer, sympathetic. “I can only tell you what I’ve observed. He finds a child with abilities and a reason to become a vigilante and trains them to fight crime. He wants partners, not children. Lucy’s an asset as far as Batman’s mission goes, but Bruce Wayne will never be her father.”

“Look, I think you’re making assumptions here about something you know nothing about,” Dick told her. “I am his son. We’ve been through hell to prove it to each other, but we’re family. Everyone around this table is a member. Fighting crime just happens to be the family business.”

“And your childhood was the cost to buy in to the ‘family business’,” Selina replied, keeping her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She couldn’t let them see her shaking. These people had stood in moral judgment over her for nearly a decade. Facing them like this - trying to explain why they were wrong - was terrifying. Selina swallowed hard, continuing for Lucy’s sake.

“I won’t stand by and let another child learn about violence and pain and loss before they hit twelve. Everyone here has given some part of themselves to his holy crusade,” Selina said, pointing at Bruce, “and I refuse to let Lucy become the next draftee.”

“Look, Selina…” Tim tried, glancing at Cassandra. “I’ve been doing this for a while now and I practically had to force Bruce to take me on as Robin. I wouldn’t change a thing. We’re working towards something here, working for something good, and I-”

“You’re losing the battle,” Selina whispered. They stared at her, shocked by her audacity. Selina realized how truly delusional they were about their life’s work.

“There were once 15 million people living in Gotham. Now that’s down to 6 million with no end in sight. I’ve spent the last two years on the front lines in the East End and I can tell you for a fact it’s not getting any better. You take out the supercriminals and work crisis management but when it comes to crime…” she paused, trying to frame her next words. “When it comes to the violence and brutality that is tearing this city apart, you’re contributing as much as any one of Gotham’s villains.”

This latest charge was met with a lot of angry, resentful looks. Barbara was shaking her head, Tim and Cassie looked positively outraged and Dick glared at her in quiet disapproval. Selina knew she would never win any popularity contests from this group. Even Leslie looked miffed, and Selina had expected to at least have the East End doctor in her corner given their conversation earlier at the Institute. Leslie had been proven wrong about Bruce.

“How can you say that?” Barbara asked her, angry, her eyes flashing fire beneath her glasses. “We’ve sacrificed everything to make Gotham a better place-”

“And I’m not denying that. Christ, I know the cost as well as any of you!” Selina replied hotly. “I’m the one who sleeps next to him every night,” she said, gesturing at Bruce. “I know about the nightmares. I’ve seen the scars. And I can imagine that every one of you has hundreds of memories you’d give anything to forget. But think of every horrible thing you’ve ever seen in your lives. Every moment of pain and regret and guilt. People you’ve watched die. Children you’ve seen irreparably damaged by crime, violence and sexual abuse. Now imagine seeing that every day of your life. That is what he wants to condemn Lucy to.”

“Selina,” Bruce said tensely, “it isn’t like that for-”

“Yes it is!” she exclaimed. “You can’t seem to say more than two words to her, but she talks to me. I know exactly what it’s been like for her, what her visions do to her.”

“If the visions occur naturally and Bruce simply asks her to hone in on one of them…” Tim interrupted, “I don’t see the harm. I mean, if she’s going to have them anyway, at least they could be used for a higher purpose.”

Barbara and Dick nodded. It wasn’t clear how well Cassie was following the rapid-fire verbal exchange. Leslie put her elbows on the table, leaning on her palm tiredly.

“That isn’t necessarily true,” Leslie said. “I think Lucy might someday be able to suppress the visions, at least the ones she consciously receives. By requiring her to focus on a single image or prophecy, it may damage her ability to ignore the ones she doesn’t want to see.”

“But you’re not certain,” Tim prompted. Leslie nodded in agreement, her eyes meeting Selina’s in silent apology.

Selina sat back in her chair, considering her next tactic. She hadn’t wanted to do it this way.

“And what about Jason Todd?”

Bruce’s head snapped up. “What about him?”

“He died in the Robin costume, Bruce,” Selina said quietly. “And what about Dick? Do you know what it’s like to have a father who won’t acknowledge you?”

Their eyes met, the Roman’s name hanging in the space between them.

“And Barbara,” Selina continued, not flinching from the naked hostility in Barbara’s eyes. “How hard did you have to fight for his acceptance? When you became Oracle-”

“Don’t talk about my life,” Barbara growled. “You don’t have the first clue.”

Selina backed off, knowing she was losing this battle. Some of them might agree that Lucy should not be used in Bruce’s war on crime. They might even think Bruce shouldn’t adopt her. But Selina had known from the start it would be nearly impossible to get them to say so to Bruce. They were all so accustomed to taking orders from him that they seemed unwilling to question him. Perhaps they were incapable of it.

“This is child abuse,” Selina told them. “I don’t know why you’re willing to support him-”

“We support him because we believe in what he’s doing!” Barbara told her. “You think we don’t realize how cruel he can be sometimes? I know how hard he pushed Dick and Jason. I’ve seen how he treats Cassandra. He was never a father-figure to me, Selina. I see him for what he is.” She drew a deep breath. “And I know how important our work is. If Bruce thinks we need Lucy, he has my support.”

Selina checked each face, a sinking feeling registering deep inside. She met Leslie’s eyes. She looked away. Dick too. Tim nodded at her and Cassie stonewalled. Barbara stared at her angrily. The vote seemed unanimous.

“Fine,” Selina muttered, standing. “Bruce, before everyone here starts congratulating themselves on another fine moral victory, I just want you to explain to them why I’m here.”

Everyone turned to stare at Bruce. Selina folded her arms.

“All that crap you fed me about how you needed me. How we belong together. You wanted me to stay because Lucy is calmer and more focused when I’m around. You saw it right from the start in the Court of Miracles. And you made me believe that you wanted me to stay because you felt something for me. Instead you just wanted to recruit another soldier to your cause.”

Bruce stood, his mouth falling open. How could she think that he would-

“And what does it matter?” Selina continued, her voice angry and sad at the same time. “I’m not really supposed to be here. I’m the bad guy, right? My presence here with Bruce is justified only as some kind of perverse sexual indulgence. That’s what you’ve all been thinking, isn’t it?”

Again, none of them would meet her eyes. Selina flushed, ashamed of herself and the way she had allowed Bruce to manipulate her. She’d actually managed to convince herself that he could love her. What a joke.

“I would have married you.”

Bruce’s voice was quiet, deep and resonant in the small room. All eyes turned to him, their surrogate father, the leader of their small pack. He was standing, facing Selina across the long table, his hands at his sides. “I love-”

“Don’t you dare,” Selina warned, eyes snapping green fire. “You son of a bitch! I told you…I told you things I’ve never told anyone! And I thought that it mattered because we were equals.”

“We are,” he tried to assure her. Selina shook her head.

“I’m a whore and you’re a liar. Hurrah for equality.” She closed her eyes. “You were using me, like you use everyone else.”

They waited for him to deny it. Slowly, as Bruce’s silence continued, the heads around the table lowered. Only Selina continued to watch him.

“You’re on the edge here, Bruce,” she said in a quiet voice. “If you take that first step, it’s a long way down. I made that trip myself, once. You compromise yourself on this, you turn that child into an instrument of vengeance, and you annihilate everything Batman has stood for in this city.”

With that, Selina left the room, leaving an atmosphere still charged with anger and frustration. The family faced each other awkwardly, silence settling between them. None of them knew what to say.

None of them ever did.

**************************

Selina began stuffing clothing into one of the suitcases Slam had brought her. Smitty and Marcelo had cleared out when they’d sensed her anger. The cats knew enough to take cover in case she started throwing things. Slowly, the adrenaline left her system and Selina sank to the bed, her head hung low. She’d lost.

Nausea tightened her stomach and she broke out in cold sweat. Selina made it to the bathroom in time and knelt beside the toilet, heaving until her stomach was empty. No, she thought desperately. Not this too. It had to be the lingering effects of that house of horrors in Ottisburg, not -

But it was possible, of course. And perhaps inevitable.

There was a soft knock at the door. Selina cleared her throat, running some water to wash her face. She smoothed her skirt, preparing for round two. Alfred slipped into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him.

“Miss Kyle?” he asked anxiously. “Are you unwell?”

She sank onto the edge of the bathtub, trying to regain her composure. “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Call me a cab?”

Alfred shook his head, his hands faltering for a moment before he touched her shoulder gently. “You’re ill. Are you-”

She shook her head, then shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Alfred frowned, unsure how to continue. Finally he looked at her.

“I wanted you to know…I agree with you. About Miss Lucy.”

Selina stared at him, astonishment clouding her lovely features. “Why…why didn’t you say so?”

Alfred shrugged. “Master Bruce rarely listens to reason. I indulged his decision to allow Master Dick to don the Robin costume. Perhaps it was a mistake but I thought it was for the best. And I believed his desire to include Master Jason in his life was also a positive good. These children…” Alfred paused. “I wanted so badly for them to change him. To humanize him. But Jason’s death and Dick’s abandonment has forced me to acknowledge the fact that Master Bruce is intent on destroying every bit of family that comes into his life.”

He fell silent, watching her as they both contemplated the meaning of her nausea.

“Come with me, dear,” Alfred told her softly, helping her to stand as he led her out of the bathroom. He glanced up at an oil portrait of Bruce’s parents on the wall across from the bed. It was older than the one in the study: the Waynes had been a young married couple when the portrait was done.

“I wish I could explain Master Bruce’s motivations in simple psychological terms, Miss Kyle. Survivor’s guilt, perhaps. Or some inability on Master Bruce’s part to relate to other human beings. I’ve often believed the fault was mine. I raised him, after all.” Alfred sighed. “What he is now…his faults, his pride, his emotional incompetence…blame it on being raised by a reserved servant rather than two loving parents.”

“I’m sure you were a good father to him,” Selina said quietly. Alfred shook his head.

“If I had been even remotely adequate, he should have been a very different man. And I believe that is why those people downstairs are so devoted to him. They see what might have been, rather than what is.”

“You don’t think he’ll ever-”

“I continue to hope and pray, as does Dr. Thompkins,” Alfred said quickly. “Someday, perhaps…but this business with Miss Lucy is most troubling. I think in some way he believes you could live here happily with him. You could raise the child together, assisting Batman on his mission and fulfilling Bruce Wayne as a man.”

“I’m not exactly the nurturing type, Alfred,” Selina told him. “You think that’s what he really wants?”

The butler nodded. “He gave up the usual hopes long ago, Miss Kyle. He is fundamentally a selfish person and a wife and family would require him to surrender too much of himself. Instead, he creates a family that lets his emotional needs go unchallenged. We are all either employees or children of his; he has no equal amongst us. And I believe he wanted to place you in a similarly subordinate position, although I’m sure the thought never consciously occurred to him. You’re his match in every respect and I doubt you could assume a secondary role even if you wanted to.”

Selina nodded, frowning. “Why are you telling me this?”

“To save a child,” Alfred told her honestly. “And for all the children I could not save.”

She touched his hand and felt how strong and sure he was. Alfred was truly Bruce’s father, no matter how inadequate he considered himself to be.

“You won’t tell him about…”

She touched her belly and Alfred closed his eyes, nodding once.

“Why does everything have to be so desperate all the time, Alfred?” she asked him softly.

Alfred opened his mouth, ready to quote Shakespeare or provide some pithy comeback as he usually did at moments like these. Instead, he settled a gentle hand over her shoulder, staring up at the portrait of Martha and Thomas Wayne.

“I have never been able to determine the answer to that particular riddle,” he told her.

*****************


	10. Hurt

Night descended on Bristol, the darkness spreading from the west and challenged only by thin slivers of moonlight. Bruce sat for a long time in the darkness of his father’s study, sipping slowly from the tea Alfred had brought, staring out across the river at the city. The skyline was a broken thing, a mute chaos of office towers and housing projects, small suburban homes and bridges and tunnels, the blood-red neon of sex and violence settling over everything like a fog. He stared at his city, numb from the ugliness of it.

The door to the study opened a crack, light spilling into the still, silent room. Lucy hesitated at the doorway, but he felt her decision almost before she made it. The child entered, her footsteps soft and irregular, her damaged foot dragging over the thick oriental rugs carpeting the room.

“What is it, Lucy?” Bruce asked tiredly. She came to stand before him, her thin little face glowing in the soft darkness. Her fragile body was silhouetted against the distant lights of Gotham and he closed his eyes against their future.

“When is Selina coming back?” she asked him. Bruce rubbed his eyes.

“She’s not,” he said. Lucy’s face was concealed in the darkness.

“Why?” she asked, her voice small.

Bruce shrugged, his eyes burning a little. “She and I had a fight,” he explained, his voice sounding strange and far away. Something twitched on the edge of his mind then, but Bruce found himself ignoring it, ignoring Batman’s instinct.

“Is she coming back?”

He squeezed his eyes shut against the soft hope in the question.

“No,” he told her.

The child didn’t respond, and after a moment he realized Lucy was crying. Bruce listened to the sound of a child’s heart breaking with the same dull horror he’d felt since watching Selina’s cab pull away from the house hours ago. The world seemed to be fading. He was surprised to feel tears slipping down his own face.

He picked Lucy up and settled back in the chair, and they cried together. He held her for a long time, waiting for her sobs to subside, hoping his voice would sound strong for her. He had to continue this for her sake. But when he spoke, Bruce only heard the tears and confusion in his voice.

“I don’t know what to do, Lucy,” he whispered against her head. “I can’t…I can’t go on without her.”

Lucy didn’t say anything. Bruce wiped his face, wondering why the room was suddenly so hot, why his eyes felt so dry. The answer was there, dancing at the periphery of his mind, but he couldn’t focus on it. Something was wrong.

He tried to lift his arm to set Lucy on the floor but his limbs wouldn’t work. “Lucy,” he tried, but saw that the little girl was asleep, her dreams deep and drugged.

Drugged.

“Alfred!” he bellowed with all the strength left in him. The study remained dark and quiet, the lights of Gotham still glittering dully against the river. He heard footsteps, fuzzy and muffled as they came towards the study. The door to the room opened and Alfred was there, suddenly, his movements quick and efficient as he removed the sleeping child from Bruce’s arms.

“Wha-” Bruce tried, his brain refusing to form the question he so desperately needed to ask.

Alfred gathered Lucy into his arms, her head lolling on his shoulder. The child was completely insensible. The butler straightened, staring down at his master, at the young boy he had raised to unhappy manhood.

“I will destroy this village in order to save it, Master Bruce,” Alfred said.

*****************


End file.
